The Trefoil Muse

I feel like an imposter sitting in front of this computer screen; once again the author with trembling fingertips hovering over the keyboard while anticipating the excitement of unleashing words.  I am having trouble settling in. Words didn’t abandon me. Instead, they were compiling day after day only waiting for the moment I would allow them to flow forward onto the page. It’s like an impromptu meeting which leads to an unsolicited script.  Where do I start?

I’ve often been told that I have a gift with words. To me, writing isn’t a gift.  It’s an actual calling.  There’s something inside me like a magnet that draws me to put words on a blank piece of paper. I literally cannot help myself.  Will this be a gifted piece of literature or an utter failure?

Could I actually be an imposter? At the moment, I definitely have imposter syndrome!

I’ve been missing in action for almost two years as a publishing author. Maybe I’ve lost the knack – another storyteller vanishing quietly into the ethos of history.  I hadn’t intended to be gone so long while pursuing other interests and for that, I owe you more than a deeply profound, heartfelt apology.

I owe you words, a vocabulary of them. 

Holy, 635 days! That’s nearly two years worth of compiled experiences and observations to share! Let’s see if I still have what it takes to tell a story.

Many of you who follow, ‘The Trefoil Muse,’ would like to know where I’ve been, how I am and why I literally disappeared into an unknown abyss without explanation – no words at all. It’s a very strange scenario for a writer.

I’m not sure I can explain it fully. Honestly, it’s a mystery. Even to me!

I didn’t just wander down a path less travelled. Rather, it was more of a migration toward something new and exciting.

The avenue I decided to pursue required me to spread my wings and fly in an advanced, innovative technological field. Needless to say, I am one of the first female pilots of Commercial RPAS (Remotely Piloted Aircraft Systems) in Canada.  I am very proud of this fact.  However, the field is new and ever-changing with a surprising amount of competition.  Dedication to ones flying skill is paramount not to mention the wherewithal it takes to stay on par with ongoing programming changes.  Technology advances at a maniacal speed. Flying a RPAS requires in depth knowledge with quick thinking, catlike prowess when focusing and huge ongoing learning curves at all times coupled with moments of extreme frustration. Despite all efforts to the contrary, let’s face it, we cannot control Mother Nature! While I excel in the technological field, it is overtly time consuming as it can take 24/7 commitment which leaves little time for other interests. Anyone now days can understand the ups and downs regarding technology, especially if you live and work in a rural area, so I won’t drone on about it.  The short story is that I burned out to the point of unplugging and not wanting to see a computerized anything.

There is nothing worse than dreading a job you once enjoyed. 

The other side of that is that if you enjoy what you are doing, it isn’t a job at all. 

My brain needed a rest. 

I needed to unplug from technology.

It turned into a very healthy choice.  It’s been awesome! The break allowed me to pursue other interests and hobbies.  I experimented with new mediums. I’ve learned that I really like to work with wood; whittling, relief carving, pyrography, weaving and painting.  There’s something about the smell of wood, not to mention the excitement I feel when watching my project come to fruition. It is only akin to the feeling I get when having written something extraordinary to share with you.

I have missed my blog.  I miss painting with words and weaving sentences into stories.  But, most of all, I miss you!

This is the six hundredth and thirty fifth day.

Can I still write something you would like to read? 

I look out the window and see a magical wonderland.

Will you forgive me fully if I write something beautiful now?

Snow is falling today. It’s the type of glittering snowfall that makes me feel nostalgia. White feathery flakes are drifting down from the heavens. They are thick, heavy flakes; laden with moisture.  It always makes me wonder if Angels are molting when feathery thick snowfall like this falls upon our barren dry land near the end of a mild autumn; it’s almost like it was heaven sent. Perhaps it is the answer to this prairie dwellers prayer.

We need moisture out here on the Alberta prairie, any moisture we got earlier this year dried up long ago then we entered back into drought like conditions.  Snow is a welcomed sight to my weary eyes. It gives me something to look at other than dirt, yellow grass and barren trees.  I am enjoying how the outside world looks covered in a downy quilt of white snow.

Surprisingly, a flock of Canadian geese just flew low over the house – dark, shadow like figures with undulating wings cascading through the milky atmospheric haze.  It appears that this particular flock of geese is having trouble navigating.  Instead of their typical V shape, they are a honking chaotic mass of disorganization flapping crazily along a now white colored landscape as if blinded by heavy falling snow.  Everything about this scenario seems unusual including the fact that these geese have not migrated south yet. They appear to be lost.  

My Canadian geese sightings have been scarce this year and the few gaggles that I have seen are similar to this sighting. The flocks seem confused – there is a lot of flapping and honking but, none are listening to the other while crowding each other so closely that they are blinded to what lies ahead. Everyone wants to be a leader but nobody actually wants to lead.  Proving that just because you want to lead doesn’t mean that you can or should – bad leaders are dangerous.  My hesitant guess with this flock is that they are lacking an appropriate leader which has caused chaos. Eventually, out of chaos comes clarity.  May a qualified or experienced leader appear at the helm soon to guide our feathered Canadians home in a successful migration. 

Unusual sightings and observations have meanings to a mystic or muse such as myself.  The symbolic quality of a bird such as goose equals storytelling, fertility and fidelity, symbol of eight and infinity.

So here I am as an author magically appearing on day 635, feeling nostalgic as I watch the snow fall while observing geese and painting with words to create another storytelling extravaganza with an infinite number of words – a vocabulary of them.

Will I be back or will I just disappear again? 

The symbol of Goose is 8.  I will commit to publishing at least eight new stories in the upcoming year. The symbol 8 also signifies infinity….  (There may be a plethora of words coming for you to enjoy.)

Thank-you all for your loyal support, past and present – even during my neglectful absence I noticed my stats were active.  I appreciate all of the visitors to my blog and hope you continue to enjoy my penmanship in the future!

Again, please forgive me for my lengthy absence!

Thank-you for following, reading, sharing and commenting – The Trefoil Muse