Not Writing…Courting Monsters

The Not Writing Writer is a Monster Courting Insanity

Franz Kafka

Sometimes, not writing is the perfect prescription for a writer, given the right circumstances. Sometimes my thoughts are too chaotic to put pen to paper, or fingers on the keyboard…

Sometimes, Not writing…

Is a way of hiding from my dark emotions and avoiding voicing those chaotic thoughts…

Sometimes, Not writing…

Is not being present in the moment. Not writing my way through those dark emotions and untangling those chaotic thoughts is the way to falling into their deep pit of fury.

Sometimes, Not writing…

Is not remembering that putting those emotions, those twisted knots of thoughts down on paper is the way to remember to breathe.

Sometimes, Not writing…

Is the pattern that pulls me deeper into the dark, battling to see the light.

Sometimes, Not writing…

Is the fear that my words are worthless or worse that they are too heavy for the page to carry.

Sometimes, Not writing…

Is the monster courting insanity, flirting with danger and drowning in grief.

Sometimes, Writing…

Is to remind myself that in a world of chaos and unpredictability, sometimes the only world I can control is the one that spills out of the ink that I put on the page.

Sometimes, Writing…

Is the prescription to calm my fears, fears of the unknown, fears of the future, fears for those I love.

Sometimes, Writing…

Is the way I can keep my record of the unknotting of chaotic thoughts in a world gone mad.

Sometimes, Writing…

Is the motivation that allows me to push forward another day with the promise of hope.

Sometimes, Writing…

Is a way to heal these open wounds, a way to sort these missing puzzle pieces.

Sometimes, Writing…

Is the way I breathe. The reminder that if I am creating then I am filling the black holes of nothing that chaos creates.

Sometimes, Writing…

Is the truest part of me.

Now, Writing…

Birthing Stars

One of my favourite writing friends, Julie Christine Johnson, just published an evocative post “Atmospheric River” on her blog. (Aside* Do yourself a favour and visit Julie’s blog. It will lift your spirits and inspire you.) I had never heard of the term “Atmospheric River” before but it just zings with me now. Julie speaks of awakening from a winter of the soul, one which I know well and so much of what she shares in this post echoes what I am feeling right now.

A couple of days ago I celebrated a birthday. In many ways it was a difficult Birthday because it was my first without one of my oldest friends, someone who is a part of my soul. But also because of A and how much she treasured life, even as it slipped out of her fingers like the broken silken threads of spiderwebs, I also was determined to truly appreciate the day. It ended up being both a terrible and beautiful day, much like life itself. Terrible in that someone, in a six degrees of separation way, was buried on my birthday morning. Beautiful in that a precious new human, the first longed-for son of one of my soul-friends, was born on the evening of my birthday.  A burial in the morning and a birth in the evening on my birthday. An ending in the morning and a beginning in the evening of my birthday. This paradox of tragedy/beauty and death/birth made me think of the life of a star.

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