however words find me - and that's my morning preparation, to make myself ready to receive not just words but the entirety of the day. It's an easy routine of simply awakening, a first listen to what's drawn to my attention, bird song, insect chirp, and a car in distance travel, all blended to a chorus of their own. It seems that sound always arrives first, before any light finds me, or thought flirts through my mind. I listen from a deep recess somewhere between sleep and waking - as if waiting for the world to sing me fully to the day.
with this I'm ready, inspired, and nothing more needs to be done for words to find me - writing takes place completely on it's own from whatever mood existing now. There is no proper place or way for me to be, just awake, and open to receive.
it's that simply, yet only because I have no wish to write anything other than what presents itself to me, perhaps too lazy to reach for some higher meaning or clever use of phrase. I am content with what's given, patient in my wait for words. In this way my mood and writing seem to correspond with some energetic exchange of their own - I find my self responding to their whims of language, writing in ways that leave me more as witness to their play. I am not removed from this process, fully conscious of mood and inspiration, yet certainly not the author of the words that find me.
what's written now is my only draft of this surprise - a few simple words, no great meaning other than my own satisfaction of a morning's work complete. A writer only needs words, and with this all they really have to do is wait. That's the hardest part and one so often confused as a block to their creativity. Words find us. We are not sole creators of any form of art, nor even authors of our own life and inspiration. We are a means within a process, an instrument of intermediary points between thoughts and page. I don't take my role so seriously as to demand credit for words. There is no self importance in being ready and open to receive. However words find me -
writing happens.
~
Peace, Eric
No comments:
Post a Comment