On Remedies for Being Stuck
When I need to write but don't know what to write or where to start ...
… I take a sentence that moves me, that presents itself to me like a light in the dark. Each word of the sentence is used, in order, as the first word of a sentence. Sometimes it is pure silliness, sometimes it sparks something, sometimes it is just a way to show up on the page.
“For what enthralls me and what I experience as beauty is often judged to be dull and dry by others.” M.C. Escher
For each morning I would look to the way the light fell through the window to find out the sort of day which lay ahead. What mood that day would have. Enthralls to knowing at the beginning what will come. Me above all to know is a steadying of the heart. And this slowing of the heart lets the mind begin to see. What will I need to do to reach the point of the day where the light drops and shadows play in its place? I can’t seem to help wishing for all the day’s tasks to be done only to start dreading the next day’s tasks when they are. Experience shows this to be a hard way of functioning to break. As I layer in more rituals to calm and quelch and allay my quivering heart, I can’t help but feel that I am just masking my truth and denying a rich blossoming of enriched living. Beauty lies beyond the boundaries of my life. Is the longed-for unattainable. Often glimpsed. Judged to be a thing I am not worthy of having or knowing. To be for others only. Be for those worthy of the notice and attention of others. Dull I must seem and remain. And, over time, I see this to be true. Dry as dust and ragged rock. By myself even when surrounded by others. Others who know what it is to live in the mornings unfettered by the light.