Wait. Walk. Write...Part II

TO WAIT. To become still. To hear my own heart, to hear His. To pay attention. To listen.

As promised in yesterday's post, I came to the page this morning with no agenda or topic in mind, with no specific idea what I'd be writing. I'm sorry to say what started out as an exciting little adventure seems to have turned out to be a bit of a dud writing exercise. (At least that's how I felt, till my sister gave me a good talking to... she said I'd accomplished what I'd set out to do, even if the results weren't as I'd hoped.)

You see, I thought I'd have a leisurely morning to wait, walk and write. And then see what comes up.

But, then dearest hubby (and he really is) came up with the lovely idea of an outing to the Italian Centre for a nice coffee and then get some olive oil for the pantry.  Oh yes, that would be lovely, indeed, but what about my writing time?  Take your time to write and then we'll go after.

Ah, yes, I thought it was possible. But as soon as my heart realized there was a deadline, even a generous take-your-time deadline, we knew we were in trouble. For Misses Creativity and Inspiration, at the slightest provocation, will oft pack up their little artsy bags and move back to Vienna (or wherever they came from).  And they did.

So we didn't feel able to sit and just wait... unhurriedly and with no pressure. Thoughts were buzzing around. Because as much as I endeavoured to remain calm inside, I did feel the pressure. Okay then, let's go for a wee walk...see if that helps the serenity and creative spark come back.  To step Two:

TO WALK. This was about setting my feet on a path outside to catch glimpses and fragrances of something lovely. To connect to the beauty of nature.

Shoes on. Out the front door. A deep breath.  Mmmm..... cool and overcast this morning. Fresh and invigorating.

Down the step past the patch of bright orange self-invited calendula flowers which make their home year after year in the drier-than-Sahara corner that never gets rain for the overhang (now that's what I call perseverance). Past a row of deeply pink bell-shaped lavetera and a quick peek at the blush rose's newest offerings.

At first my thoughts are jumbled and agitated. I'm supposed to get this post up. I promised I'd be here. What am I doing going for a walk, and who said I needed to, mmm?

If you're asking this too, I'm heeding the advice of two well-known and respected writers who consider it vital for artists, writers, and yes, any and everyone, to draw near to the wonder and beauty offered us in our natural world, and to get out in it every day as a necessary part of our writing ritual (and, of course, for the health of our own being).

Of course, we knew that to be true, but sometimes it takes someone else to point it out and refresh one's memory. I used to go often for walks in the mornings and come back rejuvenated and alive to the possibilities of a new day. But that was before I started working at our part-time cleaning job; getting up at three in the morning sets that whole wondrous habit on its ear and I've never recovered it...till this morning.  

So there I was... walking... talking out my heart's momentary frustration. And then...I felt a becalming settle around me. I started to look around.  I felt my legs moving beneath me. It felt good. I noticed a front garden, beautifully manicured with its lush green lawn, with mower marks still fresh.

A friendly smile and greeting from a couple crossing the street to join a van load of friends. All dressed up, and from their faces, going somewhere nice. Then there was a nod from a young fellow roller blading past me. And, a few moments later I was standing in front of the storm pond (we call it our lake) all set about with fever trees...ahem...water-loving willow trees and bulrushes, looking at the greyish-blue water dappled with a few ducks.

Sigh.  Delightful.  I'd lost sight of just how pleasant an early morning walk is for the body and soul.  It was just a short 10-minute outing...to allow my senses to drink in and allow them time to gather new images, sights and sounds.  To slow down and pay attention.

TO WRITE. Well, this is the place where ideas and words should meld and create post-worthy thoughts.

And so when I came back and sat down, I felt good, except now the vacuum cleaner was roaring (isn't he sweet?) and...and...and...

I finally gave up trying to write at that point. The vacuuming and now the mopping complete, I decided that the writing part would have to wait till after our Italian Centre adventure.  Yes, we had our special coffee, and the surprise was that we went for lunch at a new Italian place nearby. Homemade gnocchi with a tomato lobster sauce, shrimp in their own garlicy sauce, green salad and, oh, don't forget the crusty Italian slices of fresh bread. Yum! Surely there would be something to write about such a meal!

 
Sorry...what was that, you ask?  Oh, I didn't mention those famous writers' names?  Julia Cameron (The Right to Write) and Natalie Goldberg (I'm just reading her newest book, The True Secret of Writing).

And that's my writing exercise for the day. I guess it's a post. Maybe it wasn't such a dud after all.  But you can be the judge.Thanks for your patience -- we'll see what writing adventures show up next time.

Wishing you glimpses of heaven in unexpected places,

Brenda

xox