hurts so good

went to my yoga/pilates fusion class yesterday and about two or three minutes into it, i kid you not, my thighs locked up. the rest of the time i was in agony. counting down the minutes, and an hour is a long time to be clock watching and rolling around on the floor in pain.

i'm so out of shape from my time off, and i've got my stamina back to a decent level, i don't have to dive into bed after every outing, sometimes i can be out and about a whole day again, but i can only stand for up to six hours, no more. any more and it wipes me out. that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

it's just time for me to find my bliss in the form of my day job.

i get to order my diploma and submit my graduate lecture description, and this feels like progress. soon, very soon, it will be done. my prof said to me,

you've trusted your life to words and they sing.

the jury is still out on the title poem, but i explained all the reasons for the choices i have made in my poems, and she understands. how that changes anything, i don't know, but i think the fact that one can explain why one made a certain choice is something. i'm grateful for this journey, it has been long and painful, but so much growth is evident. i can articulate the whys of what i do now, not just do the stuff. that's something. not like i want to have to explain myself, i would like the poetry to speak for itself, and i think outside of academia it does, but inside, where i've abandoned all punctuation save the comma, period, Mdash, and apostrophe, it's hard to accept as a stylistic choice. but i've finally got something here, that is bigger than stalking the dead. something i will be proud to publish, whether through a traditional publisher or on my own, i have something here that i think will make it on its own merits.

i've had to let a lot go, but there was one surprise addition. my prof wanted me to include a poem i sent her as an explanation for why i did something in another poem and she said,

include it, it demonstrates your range.

that isn't a bad thing.

the collection is vast, as collections go. i am as pleased with it as if i had only had my hands on it. some would call that stubbornness, but as i told one professor during a workshop,

i'm approaching an ideal in my mind. a vision. and that poem is as close as i can get at the moment.

she replied,

well, you're approaching it at a gallop.

as far as praise goes, i will take that response. i still don't believe poetry is made by committee. that we can alter a poem and end up down the road and around the corner and call that revision. poems are birthed in the soul, this will always be my perspective. they are an expression of spirit. the more i come to understand about poetry, the more i truly believe this.

i am excited for what is to come.