Oh sweet. It is 5:30am. I love mornings. I love sunrises, but I also love dark cozy winter mornings. I sit in the silence, and wait for the words that always have a habit of coming to me at this hour. Or 3:00 am, and it’s always dark at that hour. Sometimes it’s cozy, but it’s usually just quiet and cool. There is all kinds of energy happening at that hour too. You know those posts you read about it being the hour of writers and artsy types and Spirit Callers? Or whatever the hell that post says, yeah, it’s true. All of it. But I digress.
So I contemplating this morning on whether I should continue to lay there and just bask in the glory of my bed, or if I should actually answer the call. The call to write.
Yes! Let’s do this today!
Somewhere between, washing my face, making a cup of tea and getting settled into my big comfy chair, I was left with only being able to write about the fact that I wanted to write! What the hell?!
It can be difficult to not be discouraged during these times, when you are actively trying to “do” something. So instead I realize it’s about “being”. So right now, I’m BEING a writer.
This post may suck on all levels of sucking, and some may call it mindless drivel, others may call it fucking brilliant, some may say this is a perfect way of showing the balance. The point is, I’m actively doing THE THING. I am actively BEING the writer.
So, as I sit and write, I realize, I’ve written. Words still flowed, not the words that were in my head an hour ago, or even 5 minutes ago, but here I am.
I’m starting to grab hold of the idea that we spend way to much time planning, preparing, analyzing, contemplating, brainstorming, when we really just need to take those inspired action steps and do the thing. Whatever the thing is. I don’t care what the thing is, just get off your ass and do it.
I remember a time where I’d grab a journal and my new favourite pen, you all know I have about 100 favourite pens and journals, it’s a bit of a thing for me…. and I’d write. I’d write, I don’t know what to write. What should I write. Sigh. This sucks. Why are the words not coming. Why am I sitting here, with this pretty new pen, and this new little journal and I don’t know what to say. Fuck this pen sucks. Now it isn’t writing smooth. Seriously? Now not only do I have nothing to write about, but the pen is being an asshole. Okay here, another pen. Ah that’s better.
True story! I bet if I looked hard enough I could find that entry and show you a photo of it. But that was just the beginning, because you see after a few minutes of getting all the bullshit thoughts out of the way, the magic happened. The words came, whatever they may have been, and I was fully captivated in the act of what it was and becoming one with the moment.
Don’t underestimate the mindless drivel. Let it pour out of you like a waterfall and own that it exists. Let it be what it is, give yourself permission to let it flow, and then, the magic will happen.
See how it works?