To read an excerpt from the book, please click on the following link:

ashaveilbook.blogspot.com


Friday, September 26, 2014

No Big Breaks

I find myself wandering around the house, picking up Thistle's toys, cleaning, sorting clothes for donation.  Tomorrow, I say, I will attack that big pile of books, for donation also.  Then, I say, I will go up to my Lompico house and rake up those redwood leaves, and bait the rat zapper, as it is getting rainy here and "they" will want to come in.  But I had been avoiding writing after a huge bout of fear, after writing something longhand, thinking it was so, so awful: and then today looking at it and realizing it is not so bad after all.

Fear is part of this process.  After what happened in November to me, I have had so much fear about people secretly hating me, because that is what happened on perhaps a less "hating" scale with my beloved friend, but certainly caring about me much less than I thought and had been led to believe.  Maybe there was more caring than either of us thought; we both had a hand in what happened, as is always with these things.  I dreamed of this person last night, and everything was happy and fun between us  again; we were laughing together about something--no matter what happened between us, laughter always seemed to prevail in the end, for the most part. The strangest part was that we were in front of a gray castle with blue trim, with gardens all around us and a big lake, like a fairytale place.  It was nice to have a dream about us laughing when so many of my dreams were so sad or scary about this person before; I used to dream of him in broken houses. And in my dream, he was wearing white (sort of a caftan with pants), and had a lei of bright yellow and orange marigolds around his neck, which looked very nice contrasted with his white beard and clothes.  I woke up feeling rested and peaceful, and not sad as I usually do.

Well, back to the book.  So much work, so much longing that I had known Asha better, that perhaps I eould have helped her somehow.  I suppose that writing this book is helping others to know her, a little, and to understand that these crimes take away real people: I think the general public gets jaded after a time as to the magnitude of such terrible things.