Interesting word, that one. Powerful and mysterious. And sometimes, hard to come by for a writer.

On this beautiful island on the river, one has considerable time to ponder one’s place in the world; to find the limitations and reach of the self. Today, I am examining the juju of a word.

No.

No, I am not going to rail against the demands of the day that keep me from the writing.

No, I will not drive myself nuts that the chapter isn’t there yet. Or that the words are slow to come.

No, I will not be frustrated that the client wants a new direction that was never offered to begin with.

No, I will not let myself be pushed into decisions that make me uncomfortable.

No, I’m not going let me frustrate me.

No, I am not going to be pissed with myself for sleeping until—gasp—7:30 two days in a row.

No to self-doubt. No to wish-it-were. No to “can’t figure it out”. No, that I don’t feel like it. No, that it’s still in boxes somewhere. No to seeing the big-scary whole and not the steps required to get there. No to the icks of dust in my pores. No to the worry that those who were going to visit won’t. No to empty. No to lonely. No to not knowing, not doing, not exploring, not feeling.

No can be a positive experience if you approach it correctly. Figuring out  that I belong to me is a fine exercise for the day.

Now, where did I put that “yes”?

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