Waking Up

I awake in the early morning hours and lie in bed just those few extra moments.  My mind teeters between dream and reality as I listen to the raindrops and wind outside my window and and begin to wonder if I should ponder beginning a new day.  I stretch my body, arching my back in a yoga cat's pose while lying on my side, feeling muscles relaxed from the night's slumber--released from the clenching that happens with the running of the day.  Just a few more minutes, I think to myself.  I lie prone in bed, relaxed and in some ways the most me, free from the complexities of the days activities that make up the list of who I am.  My morning face, with sleepy eyes is not yet hindered by the mask of make-up that prepares me to meet my day.  Just a few more minutes, I think to myself.

My writerly life is much like those early morning moments when I choose to languish in bed for just those few extra moments.  It is during those moments that the clarity of words happen--even when I think I am in a dream state and I think nothing is there for the offering.  With the stretch of putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, as the case may be) I create the space for words to flow.  For my ideas to take root.  For imagination to develop.  I yoga into a position where the relaxed muscle of my mind allows words to emerge.  I come to the writing space without the masks and words create a reality.  Just a few minutes...just a few...and the writing emerges.  

During many mornings, my morning routine is much different than one of languishing.  The alarm rings and my eyes open with a startle--mind already thinking of what needs to be done.  I jump in the shower, throw on cloths and make-up and rush out the door, grabbing a lunch made the night before and a coat out of the closet as I sprint to the car to begin the rush of the day.  Grabbing coffee in the nearest DD's drive-through, my day begins. 

And so it is with my writing.  Often the day fills and my words aren't written.  Often my day fills and words aren't thought.  Often my words dissipate with the rush of the drive-through coffee.

This March, for my third year,  I am choosing to languish in my words.  I am choosing the early, slow wake-up, so that I can capture those moments that slip by with the running.   The wake up that develops a writerly life.  I am choosing to create a space for my words.  Slow.  Languishing.  Even on those days I am rushing to get my DD coffee.

Thank you to the blog, Two Writing Teachers, for your promotion of the March Writers' Challenge.  Thank you for giving us a forum for writing and responding to other writers.

I Teeter on the Edge of Longing

 In the winter of my sadness

the silence of snow and

white covered me.

Anticipation forgotten.

The long nights and

short days blended

with ice and grey

numbing desire

within to slumber.

Today, God, I teeter on the edge

of longing.

I look back on the

bleak landscape of a year gone by,

of endless days of grey and ice.

                        of death

                                                of mourning

                                                                                    of sickness and sadness—

when longing was silenced

and waiting replaced

by a deadly stillness.

Through all, You were there with me

witnessing my grief

silently comforting

waiting for me to notice

life beyond and within

the mystery of my suffering.

Today I heard a robin chirp.

A warmer breeze touched by cheeks

turning my lips upward.

A window opened

and a whisper of longing

entered in with the

warmth of the breeze

awakening my silent soul.

Oh God of endings and beginnings

You who wait for me and long for my fulfillment

Help me to yearn again.

I am awake now.

And I want to see the possibilities.

I want to dream.

                                    to know the fulfillment

                                                                        that you have known for me

                                                            all along.

                                                                         

To Vision into Now

At the beginning of this challenge I facilitated a retreat on self-care.  Sometimes when you facilitate something for others, you may need that same experience—with even more intensity.  It, with this challenge, offered an opening to me.   My word for the year is “spaciousness.”  I thought I would write about it this month.  Instead, through writing and retreat, I created it.  Or it created me.

One thing that I did on that retreat is I developed my first vision board.  Yesterday, I visited a co-blogger’s site, Between the By-Road and the Main Road, and she shared her “bucket list” poem.  My poem is my “vision into now” list.  It was born on my board, written across the pages with this challenge and lives in my heart.

A vision into my now—

Spaciousness

to be where I am,

to lighten my load

with some time for me.

My hut space to

illuminate  

mindfully.

Creative expression

and

spiritual writing

emerge from my path

to the page.

Where I am.

My space to

dance,

eat for nourishment,

paint,

swim,

write

chill out

and be.

Where I am.

Spaciousness

with splashes of color

hues of violet, green

indigo and maize,

laced with flowers

and rippled water…

all create a space

where I am.

I dive right in.

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for dedicating space and time for teachers and teachers of literacy to come together to share ideas, practice and life experience.

To Change the World...One Word at a Time

The writer changes the world.

Observing the world of others,

she seeks to understand.

Offering her world to others

she seeks to be understood.

She listens to

the cackle of birds

   outside her window at dawn.

conversation between lovers

the silence of wind on water—

seeking understanding

in the ripple roar of the sound.

She views

the majesty of a morning sunrise

   waking earth in dappled splendor,

garbage strewn along the roadside,

the sheepish smile of a stranger—

seeking understanding

in the snapshot of images.

She feels

the wake-up heat of spring sun

   after a blustery, never-ending winter,

the embrace of a just-because hug from a child,

the stretch of muscle on water as she swims—

seeking understanding

in the sensations of touch.

She writes all she takes in from the world

and breathes new life in the ordinary,

She writes all she takes in from the world

molding meaning in the meaningless.

She holds the word closely

   as the word changes her—

offering the word on page to others,

she changes the world.

Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for dedicating space and time for teachers and teachers of literacy to come together to share ideas, practice and life experience.