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I ran into an old friend from my writing program today. We hadn't seen each other in ages. She asked how I was, and what I was doing with myself and how my writing was going. I told her I was really involved with taiko, but that I hadn't given up on the idea of writing. And then she said something that really made me feel better about my state of not-writing. Something that made me feel that I didn't have to be so hard on myself for not writing. She said that I was really young when I started the writing program, and that it's really important to live. And that really hit home for me. I've been telling myself this for a long time. I need to do more living in order to return to writing. It was with such understanding and empathy that she told me this. I always looked up to her. She is actually a successful writer, published a couple books already, one of which she started in our writing program, and now she teaches here at the same school we both attended.

But it also made me think about writing. I really feel like I'm able to go back to it. We made some calculations and realized, with shock really, that it's been 10 years since we both started the writing program. I've done some living since then. Big things have happened. Life has delivered some promises, and broke some, and suprised me in many ways. It's broken my heart and filled it up again. There have been many adventures. She said your 30s are good years. She's lived through them, and is about to turn 40. When I first met her, she was about to turn 30. She says she's looking forward to her 40s. And these days, a lot of the people I do creative things with are in their 50s, and they seem happy and satisfied. I'm glad and grateful I am surrounded by wonderful people. I'm glad for all my teachers and all those who have inspired me. I feel like I'm on the verge of something here.

Today as I was driving to work I watched the thin clouds arrange themselves in the parched atmosphere, assembling for thunder, and though nothing materialized, I longed to be out in the dryness of a desert, drinking it in. I wanted nothing more than to stand in front of a drum, sweating away at drills. I wanted to pull the tacks out of Janet's old drum and rehead it. I wanted to be sitting somewhere sipping at coffee and working something into language in a notebook. I'm so close. I just need to sit down and organize my thoughts and bring something together. Yeah, I'm looking forward to the rest of my 30s. To the rest of my life.