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Writing Becomes Breath and Gypsy Driftwood

The joy of writing is that once it truly starts, it rolls and picks up like a powerful bowling ball. I watch it form a living, ever growing ghost of light. My ideas form intricate paths that weave like fine silk and soon my head fills with so many meanings and worlds my fingers are itching to write.

 I was thinking that our English expression, 'He has cobwebs in his head,' does not relate to silent mad confusion at all. I think it instead involves being in a state of having too many stories to tell, combined with the inability to spit it out. Perhaps it also involves living in a society that is more isolated, where we don't listen to each other's truths as often, or hang out to tell stories of our daily lives. 

I love chatting to people about themselves as I go about my week. I meet amazing people everyday. I'd love to write a book of lives, of every individual life born, their thoughts and visions. Without an outlet like the written word, it seems to me that unhappiness would be entangled memories and thoughts. It’s like regular cleaning. 

I've always found the dust piles up, the lint gets trapped in the dryer and the extra socks disappear into the silence of nowhere. I have had to make it a habit, like brushing my teeth, to reach down to my honest core and release. That’s where writing comes in for me. 

Keeping open is essential to my writing and I keep it fun by treating it like a James Bond Zen practice. I can never remember a time in my life when I did not believe you should always try something new at least once. Part of this risk taking involves truth. Letting go and releasing the story of your life to others. Shaking out the attic, refusing to go cloaked in cobwebs. 

I read an article that 'trying everything once' is evidently not the right approach. I evidently haven’t reached the right milestone ‘'to be a successful adult woman.' according to certain experts. Oh well. I agree to disagree. 

Fully living my life and making safe deliberate choices, choices to be courageous, independent, outlandish, changeable, in fact, whatever I want to be within, bursts open my writing, making it disciplined but mutable. Easy, free, and unencumbered in mind, is the best place to be, in my opinion, when writing. 

I give myself full permission to sink and swim; I can laugh when I get caught with my pants down. I enjoy blushing in the moonlight, running fresh from the waves and drying off among salt dead driftwood. I wish I sometimes did not feel the fool. Instead I dream of being a gypsy and a sand dancer, who walks on water, offers up fortunes and yes, always tell tales.





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