Rare occasions:
on a rare occasion without seeming inspiration and no forthcoming words, it always seems a matter of my own listening, perhaps the depth of my attention, that I am missing the true voice of silence and what it's now trying to tell me. There is always something to write of and it doesn't need to be of any great importance, nor imaginative in theme - a quiet moment has a secret and unique message, a whisper of it's own significance, and my only true role is to listen and write whatever then is heard.
or abide in the peace that silence offers.
and it doesn't matter what happens next, being unconcerned by the length of silence, or if words will arrive and bring a certain meaning and beauty to their order. Silence is the same as words now, a meaning of equal clarity in their true message to an author. What I hear from silence isn't the absence of words but the potentiality of their presence, that here, my own quiet mind, is the sacred hush of every temple that waits to hear the holy word.
on rare occasions, I rest within this quiet temple, content to simply listen, no rush to gather words and attempt to fill a page. I will write when silence readies me for writing, providing an inspiration that urges me to reach for keyboards and begin the ritual for receiving words. It's an easy process now, one of words and silence entwined together, no true pause between them, only brief moments spent listening to the very act of pure imagination, and being witness to words forming from their silent hold.
on rare occasions I am gifted by the awareness of this process, how inspiration happens, and how silence prepares me to receive the sacred words. And indeed, every word is sacred, holy in their appearance, having arrived from the pure imagination of my listening. What seems as a lack of inspiration, writer's block if you will, is only a reminder for me to listen, to allow silence to prepare me for the sake of holy words. On rare occasions...
I am gifted by this silence
and urged to simply listen.
~
Peace, Eric
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