End Writing Blocks Now with Writing Prompts, Community & More - Join us!
I saw the words as “brain bump” – which is what the last few days have felt like. A weird bump, a calvert where the car got stuck that time when we were leaving on a cross country trip that ended up feeling like a disaster. Maybe because it was an ill-thought out disaster more about my pigheaded enthusiastic optimism than reality, maybe because I am in a space where I am not sure if anything will come to fruition anymore and I’ve lost my sense of optimism and I’m not sure what to tackle next on my to-do list because nothing feels quite do-able.
Everything feels don’t able.
And I don’t know how to get over that bump. That hurdle. That stretch, even if tiny.
My draw bridge has pulled up. For too long. And I don’t know how to get it down. I’ve hired a coach, I’ve joined programs but the thing is, I need to do it.
I could play a song of “I’m all alone” but I’m so not alone.
I might be lonely and I’m not alone.
Writing that makes me want to go back to bed because I have had an awful cold and when one is physically ill one is allowed to take a break and be pitiful.
I stopped writing. I need to keep starting.
That old mantra I used to use.
I hear my phone ding.
Maybe I need to call my Mom.
Maybe I need to write to Amy.
Maybe I need to… my timer says it’s time to stop.
I need to stop for now. Fifteen minutes. Come back.
= = =
What if I couldn’t get it wrong?
What if whatever I did was the just right next thing?
What if I didn’t have to worry about making anyone happy or upsetting the (invisible, after all) apple cart.
What if I chose to enjoy, to allow the support of the divine to uphold me.
This morning, lying on the sofa, feeling the down in the cushions shaping around my shoulders, holding me securely and sweetly – just right, with strength.
This is where I would normally insert some life coach-y wisdom, some “rules for the road” some didactic-aren’t-I-showing-my-smarts-by-using-a-word-like-that punch line or brushstroke or silken thread of awareness so that the reader would immediately have an a-ha she might pick up and run with to her next enormous success in life so we will all be satisfied and thin and have the perfect hair and well behaved children and… and… and but today. Today I am simply listening to free music on youtube, the ticking of my inexpensive yet adorable kitchen timer and letting myself hold onto the freedom of not needing to be right or… is it needing to be wrong?
That’s an intriguing place we may go with our free writing.
Who would confess to needing to be wrong, after all, who wants to be wrong?
I lift my hands off the keyboard, reach up and wrap them around my head awkwardly in an embrace much like you hold…. A box from Ikea you are not sure how you will ever fit it into your car. So you just hold it a moment until you figure out how to shove it in without breaking it or your car door.
(I paused from that pose long enough to write it).
I lift my arms again, bending my elbows and allowing myself to be awkward, to feel into being wrong and then relaxed into being fine with whatever nonsense my elbows and fingers would manage to feel their way into in that precise moment.
I repeat the process, two more times and each time I do so, everything gets looser.
The floppy feels good.
I am not rushing the words, I am not rushing the release.
I am not worrying about getting any “it” right or wrong, I am just enjoying the way the chair is supporting me as I sit.
The chicken timer keeps ticking.
I shake my hands out and allow myself to feel the hunger banging lightly on the top part of my belly. It’s an appropriate part of the day to do that, after all. If I was in preschool I would have had my graham cracker and juice by now.
I decide to get up and walk a bit, around the block even. To come back, to read aloud, to see what I discover, knowing that any choice I make along the way is just right. No, beyond just right. Whatever I decide along the way is absolutely right.
(and then I experienced the most remarkable walk in a long, long time. Just around my block. And into my awareness of no possible way of being wrong. And everything. Feels. Like. Heaven and is. Heaven.)
I stumble upon a poem by Jane Hirshfield called “Against Certainty.” I record it on Anchor. It fits this theme. Perfectly.
I bow my head.
I’ve found several “lost” things today.
I need to create a spreadsheet, something I don’t know how to do but I think I’ll try it next, knowing there is no way I can get it wrong when I’m learning.
No way the process can be wrong, ever.
Just to confirm it isn’t so – I am going to read the poem with/for you.
I’m going to call this complete for now, and move along with other things I can’t get wrong. Shifting into that and this and this and that… And I will be back with brain dumping tomorrow. And this very prompt.... I am so excited to not get anything at all wrong with you, too!