Waiting For Words

Waiting for words: 

waiting for words to arrive, and the question isn't if they will appear, as I know they always do and everyday I'm surprised at the length of what's been written. No, the real concern is if I'll allow the morning to be silent in my wait, to not rush a single word to the page, but to simply abide in these quiet moments before even a trace of dawn shows, allowing everything to unfold in its own perfect way. 

it's here that I balance my wish for words against the comfort of this silence, there's no agenda yet, only the faintest stir of inspiration to the world. I know these hours are precious in their own qualities, limited to moments before the reach of dawn, and magical in the subtle layers of their hush. Nothing I write will ever come to match this, not a single word is worth breaking the spell that these quiet moment's hold upon my world. The balance is found by trusting in what's given, that through silence I receive an inspiration that's always greater than my own demand for words. 

waiting for words to arrive, and it's not about patience, nor even waiting really, as silence involves an artful listening, a discernment of those subtle layers of allowing. This isn't truly the absence of sound, and it's not that my mind is without thought, it's all too seamless for the duality of description, that a thought can appear without attachment to a thinker, or sound belonging purely to the listening. This is what I really wake so early for, and if words later follow than I am greatly blessed as well, 

and words always do appear, never missed in any morning. 

so it's not really waiting for words, but more truly of allowing myself to be part of this quiet process of the morning's inspiration. It's a matter of trusting that what appears is greater than my own demands, always, and there is no need to reach for words. Everything finds me here, exactly where I am, and this is where it seems I wait for words...

yet really, 

just listening to these quiet moments. 

~

Peace, Eric