I think one of the great joys of writing is that in some deep way beyond the mechanics and craft is something indefinable beyond the knowing. My books always seem bigger than me. So much bigger. I'm just the poor sap showing up and trying to carve out of the rock mass of words a new shape. Maybe a weaver analogy works better. I find myself picking up the threads of emotions, relationships, and wisdom and weaving them together to find wholly unexpected patterns.
I don't have words to explain it but as I write the same energy that is revealed by the perfect execution of a double cabriole jump by a ballet dancer or the punch in my soul when I turned the corner to gaze on Monet's Waterlilies at the MOMA in New York -- a painting no photo can seem to capture -- the subtance of these feelings sneak onto my pages. As I carve my words, I feel memories of the moment I glanced up at the night sky to have my breath taken away by a rare fireball meteor or the day I came out of the post office to find super perigee moon rising. The feeling of those unexpected encounters fuel my pages with something indefinable and something beyond the words.
I sometimes write notes in my margins at the surprise the words bring to me. I hope that you open to more -- beyond the words, beyond the page. I hope that you move beyond what can be known and let the unknowable settle into your work. Take the time to make something for the ages, take the risk. Seize the day.
Here is this week's doodle. I did this a couple of winters ago. I call it Washington at Dawn. And yes the indefinable spark was in this view.
I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean. Socrates
6 comments:
Yes! I write small stuff, but some of it becomes bigger than what I can imagine, sometimes even (dare I say?) luminous.
Yes, luminous. A perfect description.
Congrats on your 500th post, Molly! We are the lucky ones to be inspired by your wisdom, insight, and experience. Love the art of my native lush, green Washington. We miss you!
Totally miss you too! I also miss the lush Northwest with it tall evergreens and winter storms and the rain. It's a terrible drought here. I am counting my pennies so that I can visit.;)
Here's to 500 beautiful posts, and to the soul-stirring word weaver behind them!
Thanks, Faith! :)
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