How are you?

where are you going, where have you been?

How are you?

I always reply, as expected, I am fine. Most of us do, right? It’s a polite greeting, back and forth, not meant as a deeply searching opening.

But, how are you? No, really, you can tell me.

And then I’ll tell you.

I’ll tell you, in truth, that I am struggling. Fold down the corner on this page. It’s only one page in a whole book. Mark it off. This too shall slip into the past. There is nothing specific to attach my struggle to, and perhaps that is why I am struggling. There is no news. I wait for news, knowing I can’t control when it arrives, nor what message it will bring. If I could learn how to live within this, what a gift it would be. I could learn real peace of mind. But so far, I am struggling.

In my dreams last night I signed a book contract only to discover that there was no editor to help me edit the book, and I would need to go it alone based on a few scribbled notes that included instructions to write “a wedding scene.” My book has no wedding scene, nor any obvious place to include a wedding scene, given that the main character never marries. Also, I wouldn’t get paid until the edits were complete. On the plus side, assuming I could complete the edits, I would earn a healthy sum. On the minus side, my personality in the dream could be summed up as: socially awkward. It’s my second socially awkward dream this week.

What can it mean?

This dream melded with another in which my entire family was riding in a helicopter while I ran in a field underneath them, watching the helicopter tilt and crash-land. But everyone was okay. We went into a nearby house and I realized we’d forgotten to bring the piano books. Crisis in dreamland! How would the children practice the piano?

So, how are you?

Me, I’m flat as day-old soda pop.

But this morning is clear and sun-filled. All of my kids still love to be hugged tight. Tonight is poetry book club. There is the possibility, always, that peace of mind is within, waiting for me to alight upon it. So, just now, I’m going outside, friends. I’m leaving this desk for a little while. I’m going outside.

Will the fish eat the bug, or the bug eat the fish?
The end of April, and at last


  1. Nancy

    Good idea, Carrie. A walk in the woods always helps to ease/clear my mind. Be amongst the trees and in the sunshine…

  2. Tricia Orchard

    Good for you! Get away from that desk and enjoy the sun and fresh air! I hope it helped! 🙂

  3. Karl K.

    Hey, Carrie –

    Your helicopter dream and your clear, sun-filled Friday morning reminded me of a fine poem by Erin Bow that was read at the poetry gathering that same evening (below). Having seen you there, seemingly in one piece, I can rest assured that your wings didn’t melt in spite of your having been drawn irresistibly to the sun. Unlike some people I could mention…

    Glory, in the dictionary

    Glory, in the dictionary: the open mouth
    of the glass furnace. A radiant shadow
    cast onto mist. Think of Icarus:
    his shadow huge and haloed
    on the backs of the clouds.
    The higher he went, the larger
    it loomed. To go into glory, then,
    is to walk into fire.
    And the angels begin as they always do:
    Don’t be afraid.


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