Just keep writing.

I have found Elizabeth Gilbert’s strategy about writing to be inspiring. Just keep putting it out there, write more and when you have something to say (as anyone who knows me can tell you, I ALWAYS have something to say), then write.

This little ditty poured out of me this week. Not sure why … And in keeping with my goal to stretch my comfort zone, engage in the practice of 20 seconds of courage, and also to not pre reject my own creativity as “not good enough”, I offer this freely and hope you will be kind.

What I mean is, to quote my mom, “if you can’t find something nice to say, don’t say anything at all”. I am not looking for helpful criticism or practical ways to make this a best seller, I am simply writing a blog. I am fulfilling a commitment to write a blog a week for this year.

The struggle of course is right now I have no travel planned except perhaps a drive across Canada this summer and to Revelstoke and Kelowna BC this April. Not exotic locations to be sure, but sweet family connections that I adore and treasure as the most precious of my wealth measurements in this life.

Here goes, I have procrastinated enough ………

Quenching my thirst

My voice is harsh, barely a whisper really
I know it is there, rich and full, with plenty to say …
What is the resistance?
Cracks from years of parched dry space with syllables never heard
Miles of craggy dusty lands, not a blade of fresh green having the courage to poke through
Caustic stink of acrid decay, words once spoken in delight of a child and smothered thereafter, grown withered with neglect
Shy and shamed from voices turned in to my own, self criticizing and blaming for creative blossoming daring to be heard
Today I turn the table. Today I take a stand. Today I eat the frog in my throat. Today I plant the fragrance of essential oil. Today I hear the echo of distant sounds. Today I delight in the delicate sweetness and spice of my own words on the page. Today I feel the passion of positivity arise from deep dark places I thought were buried and dead.
I am born as if to spring, and my petals reach out toward the heat of the healing sun. I reach and stretch and take action and then in a moment an unpredictable explosion …. I am open. I am alive. I love me!
No longer lost in thought. My soul has found it’s mindful breath. Words flow like a fast moving spring river from high in the mountain, bubbling over any barriers and gaining momentum as if speeding toward life itself. The orchestra of notes and silent space performing musical mastery.
Here, now, in this place, at this time, I am alive with my story. Twittering with birdsong, rich aroma breathed in, and witnessing sparkling gold diamonds dancing on the surface, life renewed along the spring water bed. Life giving nourishment from all my many senses, a buffet of vocabulary, a symphony of song.