unfolding
late summer
words are liquid feelings
let go
pour it out
empty the cup
so you can fill it up again
allow yourself to start, over and over.
Like a ballerina on en pointe, these yellow and purple flowers that popped up all over this week, or that place between breathing in and breathing out. This week has felt deeply transitional: a still point. I had a rare patch of writing madness, and got down the bones of three songs. Then had a dream in which a musician I don’t even know but deeply admire pulled me over and told me to stop writing songs and stick to my roots. So what to make of the crazy, hazy days of late summer? And how best to support those who are feeling the weight of the same but beautifully different, individual, unique: life transitions?
Trust your intuition. Follow your dreams. Check the details and make sure it’s not just a moment of madness. But then go for it - with all you’ve got. That’s your purpose. You have limited time and life force: it’s precious. Use your energy wisely. Life doesn’t arrive shrink wrapped and tied in a bow in neat packages. One chapter opens at the same time another one closes. Every ending is a new beginning. Unfolding. Don’t put pressure on yourself, and don’t judge the situation: go with it and keep your mind, your heart and all your senses wide open.
Unfolding. Here’s how I do it: incase a map is useful for others along the way. In music. I just pick up my bow and play, let the sound of the vibration of the bow along the string guide me. Same method but different tools writing on the page. A phrase may pop up. Or a sound. Catch it. Write it down. Then go to the next line. Wait. See what comes up. Then the next. Don’t worry about sentences. Syntax. Grammar. It’s not clear if there are words or feelings yet. Unfold ourselves on the page in a nourishing conversation. Let things take their own form. Link back to the source of creative inspiration within you. And if you feel like it - it would be a joy for you to share your creativity with us all here in the comments.