Holding the Space

Each day I hold this morning time for being and for creation. I’ve written a number of little poems, I’ve done some painting, I’ve taken a lot of walks. Today at this moment, I feel lost and lonely. I miss my friends who have left town.

I look out my big window and the maples are still, the leaves half-turned and looking motley. I feel like that—unfinished, half-turned, waiting for a season to change.

And in another breath, when I let go of the need to make this into something, it is just time, my time, and the space opens up between me and the maples. It is all good just the way it is. I guess it’s this re-finding that I need to practice.

Day 3 of Dedicated Time

Today I feel uninspired, slow. Why bother to take this time for creativity when I feel uncreative? Ah, that’s exactly where the practice comes in. Do it anyway. I journal. I do some routine keeping track of my writing. Then I hang out the wash. I ignore the phone, I stretch.

Suddenly I’m ready to start making monoprints with acrylic paint and saran wrap. Do I know how? No. I just just do it. No Picasso, no genius, but serious fun.

It seems to work: make the time and something will come.

Dedicated Time

It’s so easy to get called back into the habits of a lifetime and get busy with doing things. In the past few months Ive been feeling very busy inside, losing my sense of center and of peace.

For years I’ve been accustomed to doing the “important” things first, the things that affect other people. My own stuff comes last. I’m a morning person, and my habit has been to look at the to-do lists first thing. Oops! That leads off in ten thousand directions.

I decided to dedicate mornings to my own work. Today’s the first day. I didn’t look at the to-do list. I didn’t answer the phone. It is so exciting to ask myself what piece of creative work I want to do at this moment—will it be writing a poem, revising an old piece of work, or painting with acrylics (a new love)? I’ll let you know how it goes.