So I wrote about that experience here, and the post disappeared when I had an internet glitch.
I know you know this place – where the writing seems so hard to grasp and when you do grab something tiny – a straw, a twig – you lose it, too.
Take heart, my friends. Take heart.
The words are still there.
Maybe, like me, you feel them bowling you over, like all you can do is put your feet first and try not to crack your head on the ride downstream.
Maybe you feel like the words are dammed up, snagged up river by fallen limbs of life and pain.
The answer to finding the writing in these torrential and drought-stricken places is the same as it ever is – write.
Grab a straw as it zooms by and study it. See the way it’s both sunshine and chocolate, how the green of life still lives in its heart.
Tug out a twig from that dam and cradle it in the softness of your hand. Run its bark over your tongue.
The answer to getting back to the writing is NEVER to walk away. It’s to find a piece of something – a fragment of memory, a phrase, an emotion that pricked your eyes – and write it. With no goal, no agenda, no prescription. Just to write it. . . for it is beautiful, too.
So today, I write you this post, a tiny eddy of stillness in the flood of my day, in the hopes that you will write one for yourself, too.
How does your mind feel today? Torrential? Drought-stricken? How do you write into that space?
The winner from Saturday’s giveaway of Life After Art by Matt Appling is Aaron Smith. Congrats, Aaron!