colector: [JournalWriting] Re: That Natalie Goldberg, She Goes for the Jugular (Journal Entry)

Loved this post!

Thanks Julie ..... made me start thinking what I would miss If I were
to die...

sighhhhhhh!

--- In JournalWriting@yahoogroups.com, "Julie Jordan Scott"
<juliejordanscott@...> wrote:
>
> She goes for the jugular, that Natalie Goldberg. I sit in a
Bakersfield Laundromat because of incomplete plumbing repairs
watching a fifteen-month-old girl with enormous eyes and one hoop
earring repeatedly toss her stuffed bear on the ground.
>
>
>
> "I want attention," she said with every drop of the flimsy bear to
the floor. "Pick up the bear, give it to me, I have attention, I have
focus. You notice me."
>
>
>
> I chatted with her and then she wobbled over from the sitting
position her Mom-or-maybe-aunt-or-maybe-neighbor-friend had perched
her in. She was swooped up and taken from our short friendship.
>
>
>
> No more talking to the lady whose blouse was the color of the
summer sky in early morning. No more of what I realize in just that
moment was actually avoidance of an assignment, a distraction by
toddler-attention, a procrastination tactic by a more than willing
partner in crime.
>
>
>
> Natalie Goldberg had asked me a question. I sat there with my
notebook open, pencil in hand and made friends with a baby instead.
>
>
>
> Well, it wasn't a question actually. It was more of a command.
Straight from her new book, "Old friend from far away."
>
>
>
> She looked at me, across the table and said, "Tell me what you will
miss when you die."
>
>
>
> My relentless little friend toddles up to me right as I write those
words, extending a Pringles potato chip from her chubby hand.
>
>
>
> "Da!" she says, her mouth, I notice, filled with a chunk of the
chip she is offering me.
>
>
>
> "Thank you," I say. "How generous! But you can keep the chip. I am
not hungry."
>
>
>
> I keep moving my pencil.
>
>
>
> What will I miss when I die?
>
>
>
> If I were to die right now, or on my way home from the Laundromat,
I would miss the warmth of the clothes when I pull them from the
dryer all sweet and clean smelling.
>
>
>
> I would miss the sweet contentment of filled drawers and closets
with hangers filled with choices, color-and-texture combinations. I
would miss seeing Emma in her cherry covered blouse and Sam button
his signature shirts, the one my Mom makes and others like them, the
pockets carefully lined up with the shirt pattern - matching, in
sync, methodically crafted from fabric we buy cheaply at Wal-mart.
>
>
>
> I would miss publishing the next book, teaching the next class. I
would miss the gift of syncronicity. I would miss the slap of my foot
on the pavement and the weight of Hank's body as he joins me at the
foot of the bed or the couch, a canine-living-breathing foot warmer.
>
>
>
> I would miss helping Sam untangle the world's language, straighten
it out so I he can get his language comb through it.
>
>
>
> I would miss listening to Emma's profound insights. I would miss
reminding her of my close attention to her details. I would miss
hearing her wildly large goals and her inate connection to truth.
>
>
>
> I would miss connecting with people, even those one-shot-people
like my toddler friend and her family.
>
>
>
> I would miss sharing daily gratitudes and reading the soulful
celebrations of others: some wordy and dense, some singular and terse
all smiling up into the face of divinity.
>
>
>
> I would miss finishing "Light on Snow" a compelling read, a better
indication to me of Anita Shreve as a writer to return to after not-
quite-enjoying "The Pilot's Wife."
>
>
>
> I would miss hearing my voice in my eardrums, miss feeling the way
it is when the breath rises in my throat and somehow turns into
intelligible sounds. I would miss how it feels to say certain words
as they rise from my tongue and lips, words like "nosocomial"
and "tangential" and "contemplative."
>
>
>
> I would miss catching sight of Katherine when she returns from
Mexico, that first sight after absence - the catch in my breath, the
wonder as my heart beats just a tiny bit faster, "This stunning
creature came from my womb, her - that's her!"
>
>
>
> I would miss my skin.
>
>
>
> I would miss deep eye contact.
>
>
>
> I would miss hugs.
>
>
>
> I would miss singing.
>
>
>
> I would miss standing ovations.
>
>
>
> I would miss performing.
>
>
>
> I would miss holding a pencil, the smell of the lead as it
sacrifices myself on cheap notebooks so that I can discover whatever
it is I am meant to discover and then serve it up for you and him and
her and them.
>
>
>
> That Natalie Goldberg. She always goes for the jugular.
>
> = + = + = + = + = + = +
> Julie Unplugged... the Raw, Fresh off the Pencil, Authentic Musings
> http://juliejordanscott.typepad.com/julie_unplugged/
> Subscribe to Daily Passion Activator - Changing the World One Person
> at a time.... Celebrate 6 Years and Receive a the Gift of a Guided
Meditation MP3
> http://groups.yahoo.com/group/DailyPassionActivator/
>