Today felt like a brief visit from autumn, a hint of those cooler nights with hot chocolate, wrapped up in a quilt and listening to the rain fall. I love every season for it’s own reasons and once in a while, while enjoying one, it’s nice to be reminded of the beauty of another. It was peace giving and quieting.
This week I have been trying to get back into writing but am reminded that writing is a lot like exercising. It’s hard to be happy with it when you haven’t done it in a while. But as I hang out with friends and walk this earth, there is a reminder over and over again, (I’m suspecting it’s God), that I am born to write. That is my gift and I am meant to pour it out. Sometimes I wish I could show what’s in my head in other ways, I feel I often fall far short of the best of myself , except in my writing. It’s much purer and more open. Then again, we are usually our worst critics. Still, I wish it was easier. I wish I wasn’t so concerned about writing for the next book. The best poems, the ones people really connect with, are the one’s I had to write or, as a neclace of mine says, I must “throw a hissy fit”. It’s gotta be one of the two and the hissy fit in words is what usually comes out well.
So just be warned. My poetic mind now has free license to actually follow through with all the ideas that run through my head. And as my friends know, anything is up for grabs when it comes to inspiration. Anything. Anything at all. In fact, if anyone wants to play this game with me, give me a subject to try out and I’ll see what I can do. It’s great exercise for me and quite fun. Two friends and I did this at a bazaar last season and one of the poems at least, is going to be published in the next book. So go ahead, try me…
OK.
subject: Was Jesus God’s adopted son?
Vail