With This

With this:

with this, I start writing - what I have is an empty page and the willingness for words to appear, patience, and no agenda for a message to be told. It's early and I can afford to wait, allowing the morning pace to match the flow of words. My writing is as the dawn, a slow illumination of what's already present, new light on familiar themes of process, emptiness and the allowing nature of the page, and my own capacity  being equivalent to this. It's my dawn as well it seems, unfolding with insight and light, and with this words slowly fill the page. 

 some morning do hold a bit of an agenda, a more urgent rush of words that will hardly wait to meet the page. It's another pace altogether, and yet still similar to dawn in it's own way. Inspiration only seems a sudden light, but really it's part of the longer process too, a slow reach of ideas that come to dawn in this particular moment, bright, exactly what is needed.

but this morning, words aren't rushed at all, each one seems to arrive in tentative fashion, as if today's sunlight hides behind the shade of clouds and the morning wishes to remain a mystery, with just enough light to remind me that it's dawn. I'm in no hurry, words and light will always find me, my own message revealed each day. It's always different and that's the magic of every morning. I never know what words will appear, how a theme will play through time, unfolding so similar to dawn as it lights across the page. Everything has it's own pace, sunlight, words inspiration, and the only thing that truly waits is the empty nature of the page, my own capacity too... 

and with this,

every dawn is seen as full. 

~

Peace, Eric