For about a day I decided to make this blog private. For all kinds of reasons I felt protective of my story. The problem is I’ve been writing here so long. I don’t think it’s time yet to let it go. So, after a day, I’m back. I’ve got more questions than answers abour why and for whom and where I’m headed.

When I started writing I was confused. I wanted to find direction for my ideas about schooling. For many years I struggled with that, with articulating what I believed and with how to make it real.

I barely got started writing my ideas about how to make a place for children and work I believed in when my marriage, and in many ways, my life fell apart. I began writing about how we learn in a broader sense. Divorce is a sort of rebirth. I had so, so much to learn.

For the last ten years I’ve been writing here. For the first many years it was a lifeline. Some days I wrote more than once a day. Then things tapered off.

Now I wonder who I’m writing for and who reads what I write. Every so often someone lets me know they’re reading, but mostly, I write into the air.

For about two years I was part of a writing group. I worked with a writing teacher who had first been a parent in the day care, then my friend, and who held writing classes in her beautiful home near mine. When I realized I could work less, after leaving my year of working too much at Sudbury Valley and WFDC, I gave myself to writing in her group. After awhile, that no longer felt right and I stopped.

Since then I’ve written very little. I went through yet another break up. The third of my long term partnerships ended in hurt and loss last October. I didn’t want to write about it so much as learn to live my life again in community and in peace.

It’s coming up on a year since Richard left. I’ve got a new partner. Our relationship has built more slowly, and steadily, and has weathered a day care closure, a neglect charge, and the loss of my day care partner to family crisis for me, and a job loss, a shift to retirement, and other struggles for him. We’ve somehow managed to negotiate all that while having a ton of fun and being kind to one another and our respective kids and friends. We’ve also taken on projects around my house that have been building up for years, many of them currently in process.

For a year I’ve written less, done less yoga and meditation than I’d done the previous two or three, practices that had grounded me and connected me with my inner voice.

Maybe I’m grounded and connected!

Still, I miss writing. I miss words on a page. I miss seeing what comes as it spills out, miss the shape my thoughts take when I put them into words, into sentences, into paragraphs, into pages.

I’ve written over a thousand entries here. Sometimes I think of closing it down. I wonder how I’d ever transfer all the content to a place I could keep it safe until and in case I ever want to read it.

Most of the entries I’ve written and left behind. Some get read by others, by whom I don’t know, again and again, and so I read them again and again. There are a few of those about my dad, a few about my children, some with poems I fell in love with and wrote about in connection with my life, some about thinkers or books I’ve loved and how they’ve shaped me.

I can’t say what this blog is about, other than living, who its for, other than myself and anyone who cares to read.

When I was in the writing group my teacher and others were interested in publishing. I was not, though I would have liked to be. For me, putting thoughts here has been enough. Then for awhile I wasn’t even interested in that. I wrote in a journal, then on blank paper I stapled together and stacked in a drawer, following the Proprioceptive Writing practice that grew out of a yoga, meditation, and writing practice before that. Maybe someday I’ll find a way to put words together and to polish them and send them off to a publisher. For now, I’m not.

While I haven’t been writing, I’ve been doing other things, falling in love again, swimming (I got a new wet suit so I can swim into October!), making and listening to music, returning to the community of family child care to fight again for what our children need, fighting for WFDC and it’s future, fighting the neglect charges, raising and being with my kids, getting to know the children and friends of my new guy, becoming a more active Quaker, contemplating becoming a member of Cambridge Friends Meeting, feeling loved, reconnecting with my home, my friends, my local community, not spending all my time thinking of closing this life down and starting another in Western Mass, cooking, eating, exploring the Union Square Farmer’s market, visiting quite a few museums, watching tv, seeing movies, caring for my home and business, thinking about a future learning to become a financial support person to others, sharing my home with a family as well as a housemate, drumming, continuing with Sharing Circle, traveling and seeing friends and family in places I can get to by car, not traveling to exotic places, nor missing that so much.

Lots has been happening. I’ve been in my body more in some ways, in my senses, less in my head. My guy has taught me some tai chi, some tui na massage. We’ve been to a chiropractor. In the day care I’m caring for a baby and many toddlers. I carry and hold and dress and lift and push a lot of children in a carriage or a wagon, wash a lot of dishes, wipe a lot of noses, change a lot of diapers, smile a lot at little people who smile back at me.

Life is not, as my friend Ruthann reminded us at a recent women’s potluck at my former writing teacher and still friend’s home, as we expected. As Ruthann and I are learning, much of the fifties is understanding that, and learning to stop expecting things to go as we expect. It’s no longer “what to expect when you’re expecting” the title of a book I read too thoroughly when pregnant for my first child, but “what not to expect that you might have been expecting.” No more babies, no more cookie cutter living. Midlife and beyond, I’m making it up as I go, taking it as it comes. Wish me a whole lot of luck (and love and strength and power and happiness). I’m going to need it all.