The day's blow
rang out, metallic--or it was I, a bell awakened,
and what I heard was my whole self
saying and singing what it knew: I can.
~ Denise Levertov
Two cups of coffee and my eye lids still feel like weights are upon them drooping more steadily by the minute.
I felt the compulsion to write, though, so here I sit, engaging with the page when the pillow calls out, “rest… time to nap… rest, rest, rest!”
So I write.
I attempt to get coherent thoughts on the page. I attempt to get useful, coherent thoughts on the page. I attempt to get life changing words on the page.
Therein lies the power: it lives in the action of moving through the stages: from the thought of “an attempt” to actually acting, to actually doing what is intended originally.
My fingers move on the keyboard.
I seek inspiration in spite of the drooping eyes. I refill my coffee cup and picture in my mind’s eye people reading these words in a magazine or a blog softly nodding an affirmation to their computer monitors or stack of paper in their hands.
It’s funny, the conversations which stick to my mind the longest. Do you find any random conversations from years ago floating back into your consciousness?
One conversation I recall with surprising clarity was between me and one of my co-workers from the Mental Health department. He was a psychologist who wore ill fitting suits and at one point, had fallen in love and left work at the county to relocate to the place his new love lived.
We were talking about calling in sick versus “powering through” a cold or similar affliction. I was feeling rather proud of myself for powering through a cold. He was more thoughtful about it, though, and shared his experience with resting rather than being a health renegade. For whatever reason, this conversation sticks through my remembrance clearly.
I wonder whatever happened to him?
My mind is meandering down paths other than what are coming off the tips of my fingers.
My mind is so befuddled, I took my daughter’s medicine this morning. Perhaps this is why my eyelids are so insistent upon closing. I wonder momentarily if I ought to take some medicine tonight to help me fall asleep. The only problem with that is waking up when the time is ripe and the day must begin and I must ring out my “this is Mommy me bell” whether I feel up to it or not.
There is no choice involved with that happenstance. The clock ticks on & Mommy on and within it all, I continue to choose to write, even in random forms like this one.
Denise Chavez, playwright and novelist, said, “Writing is play. If we forget that spirit of play, it’s very sad. Writing should be joyful.” I agree, even when eye-lids are heavy and momentum is dropping, I choose joy and word~love to guide my pencil, my pen, my fingers on the keyboard.
Embracing writing as the "place to play right now" leads us back to our opening words from Denise Levertov:
I heard was my whole self
saying and singing what it knew: I can.
~ ~ ~
Follow me on Twitter: @JulieJordanScot
Julie Jordan Scott has been a Life & Creativity Coach, Writer, Facilitator and Teleclass Leader since 1999. She is also an award winning Actor, Director, Artist and Mother Extraordinaire. She was twice the StoryTelling Slam champion in Bakersfield. She teaches a teleclass/ecourse "Discover the Power of Writing & Telling Engaging, Enlightening Stories" which begins again March 15, 2012. Find details by clicking this link.
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