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Going up to Glen Lake to write always creates a quiet space within me. I write from that place. I'm not saying I need it quiet to write; in fact, I usually listen to music as I write. Or I have it playing anyway. I don't suppose I'm always really listening. But anyway, I'm talking about the quiet that comes when the shoulds disappear. When the running commentary in my mind is silenced. No longer do I hear, the laundry needs to be done or the girls won't have anything to wear tomorrow. That small voice does not whisper, the house is a total mess and we are almost out of milk. Also in that quiet there is a lack of voices from my children. No Mom, she hit me, or I'm hungry. What are we having for dinner?
The trick now is how to keep that quiet space inside. How to nurture it, and feed it. Having a set time to write every day helps. In that 45 minutes of time, all I have to do is be a writer; it's all I have to be. That helps the world quiet down for awhile.
Here's hoping you find and hold a quiet space inside this week. Tell the world to shut up, and then sit down and write.
The trick now is how to keep that quiet space inside. How to nurture it, and feed it. Having a set time to write every day helps. In that 45 minutes of time, all I have to do is be a writer; it's all I have to be. That helps the world quiet down for awhile.
Here's hoping you find and hold a quiet space inside this week. Tell the world to shut up, and then sit down and write.
3 comments:
Sarah;
I know that place, only mine is slightly different, and I have the TV going, but not really watching or listening.
I needed Glen Lake to restore my faith that I can write. I go to that deep special place where my thoughts and feelings are locked away, safe from those who nod but rarely hear. In the intamacy and safety of Small Group, and at Read Around, I can let my guard down, to express how drops of dew on grass, a fabulous sunrise, a flock of Canadas, or a deer at dawn almost moves me to tears with the beauty of it all. To admit that I caress grass seed heads tenderly, like one would a newborn. I'm awestruck by the grasses and wildflowers that grow and expand their domain with no help from me at all, except perhaps not to mow or hoe them up.
I know the struggle of what's expected and what my upbringing taught me I should do and what I want to do. I guess it's part of life. I hope you can always find that quiet place where spirits soar.
Thanks Larry,
That was beautiful. And for a brief moment in this chaotic day, I,too, could see the dew on the grass, the geese in their rank and file streaming away to the south. I forget to see sometimes. Thanks for opening my eyes to the absolute wonder around me. You truely have a gift.
Gosh, now you've got me blushing. Thank you for the kind words.
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