My Work is To... Wait? What is the Meaning Behind This Writing?

If you ask me what my work is, I usually throw in something about my commitment to playing my part in positive world transformation. This is why I write, why I create art, the motivation behind engaging people and my life coaching work, why I teach seminars and facilitate programs. It is the reason I don’t only have friends who are exactly like me. This world transformation is the most significant work I can do, along with Mary Oliver’s words in Messenger, “My work is loving the world.”

Like Thoreau, I want to “live deep and suck the marrow out of life.”

With all of this forever the undercurrent in mind, I sit down this morning to write, like I usually do.

I keep forgetting to turn on music and then a bird outside my window sings, reminding me I don’t need to turn anything on when they are in the neighborhood.

I also hear the duet of a couple leaf blowers, so I suppose they are telling me it is time to turn on my musical companion.

During a moment of rest between the notes of Chopin’s “Andante spianato and grade polonaise brillante op 22” I hear the gardener’s weapons have been silenced and when I tune my ears carefully, I can hear the birds alongside my fingers clattering on the keyboard and the music inviting my mind to dance.

The piano returns, the human at the keys moving quickly, my bet is she loves the work out of both her hands and her concentration. It becomes second nature.

Second.

There is space for two voices, together and two voices singing separate solos.

I notice the piano and the strutting of a car as it drives past.

I make space for my fingers pressing the keyboard and the scrape of the bottom of a Buick on Linden Avenue and Alta Vista.

I allow myself to veer off from my straight path to search for a quote and come up with these words from Karen Joy Fowler that connect to my heart in a way not unlike Cupid’s bow:

 “Owls hoot in B flat, cuckoos in D, but the water ouzel sings in the voice of the stream. She builds her nest back of the waterfalls so the water is a lullaby to the little ones.” 

I briefly search YouTube for  “Ousel” since I have never heard of that bird. I discover a misspelling – it is Ouzel – and a synonym, American Dipper.

I watch an Ouzel building her nest under a bridge. I note how comfortable she is in this space right above a waterfall. I wonder if I can watch one of these lovelies in person. I listen to her song, a gentle counterpoint to the rapids.

Her voice reminds me of a dance teacher helping a very serious but intensely passionate and playful dancer, the instructor whispering instruction and the dancer hears and responds to something that would only sound like a particular form of gibberish to most of us.

I pause for a moment, wondering what the point is of all this observation I am carefully constructing to share with… someone…

I notice this segment of Chopin sounds like rapids and the next, sounds like water caught and swirling between large rocks.

I consider, perhaps, the only person I write this for is myself.

“What?” the practical-write-only-if-there-is-a-point side of me stutters. “This writing isn’t to awaken the world to what they aren’t hearing so they too may listen and enjoy the simplest sounds and perhaps create the next great work of art for everyone ELSE to enjoy in a huge virus of creativity sparked by cars and leaf blowers and Chopin and American Dippers fluttering over rocks and water and diving under bridges?”

Maybe it is and maybe it is just so I may be inspired to go camping in new places or read a book about the romance between George Sand and Frederic Chopin.

Maybe it is just so I can hear the announcer pronounce “Janos” so elegantly.

It is not up to me alone.

It is up to me to simply write, to put my writing out there and then to listen for any responses without attachment to weather another sound is created.

The grosbeak again woops it up out my window, almost like she is reassuring me.

I relax my neck muscles and turn my chair so I may fetch my laundry.

The only investment was thirty minutes while my wash did its thing and careful attention. The result I received was fierce, unabated contentment. Now I am ready to continue the work I am meant to do because being here, enjoying this moment fully without concerning myself about all the a's-and-b's-and-c's of world transformation is the path to world transformation after all.

It is more than enough.

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© 2012 by Julie Jordan Scott

This is my tenth post (of 31!) for the October Ultimate Blog Challenge. Watch here for challenge posts which will include Writing Prompts, Writing Tips and General Life Tips and Essays.

  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 leads Writing Camp with JJS & this Summer will be traveling throughout the US to bring this unique, fun filled creative experience to the people wherever she finds the passion & the interest.

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