Sometimes I sit up in bed propped by my three pillows, pen poised over paper, and nothing. Nothing happens. I forget words, I forget how to write, I forget what I know. Then I get shaky for a second, that it’s not true, I’m not a writer, I never was. All the words I ever wrote before this were a fluke, an aberration, or a gift that has now been taken away.
Then two things occur to me. One, I’m probably poised over the wrong notebook, it should be my journal instead. I need to download all the crap in my head. Heady crap is crap for sure. The second thing is, it is a gift. Everything is. No thought or word is original, or coming from me. That’s when I feel a sense of relief, and surrender. When there’s something to say I’ll be told what it is and then I’ll know to serve as a messenger. Messages are the fun unknowns. Where is the next one coming from? What will it be about? In the past, they’ve come from all over – a person, vanity license plates, ads on a billboard, crystal clarity from within, email signatures, or none of the above, straight to paper through ink through hand holding pen, bypassing all thought or consciousness. When this happens, I learn as much as I share. That’s how I know anyone can write. It’s the “becoming/being a writer” part that holds us up. Once, I found myself having this conversation on paper, with my self.
Write.
Write.
Write.
Write what??
I don’t know! Just start writing so we can find out.
For me, writing is a mirror that allows me to hold a greater degree of truth within myself. When I go days without journaling, I think I don’t need it anymore. When it becomes weeks, I’m sure of it. When it becomes months, the doors to a deeper consciousness start to close and I can’t quite make out their edges in the haze within. Ego shuts that door and I become disparate from words, which is the first lie. The voice of truth/Truth requires constant nourishment in order to keep talking. Not writing is not listening.
Writing is a language and a medium. It connects us to ourselves, other human beings, and the place of shared consciousness held by the SuperSoul. In yoga I’ve often heard “Don’t try to control your breathing. Let the breath breathe you.“ I offer the same for writing: Don’t try so hard to write perhaps, let the words write you.
