That's a great question posed..how to enter the extraordinary in the ordinary. I think for me it's tuning into to see the extraordinary within the ordinary. Things we take for granted easily become ordinary and seemingly mundane, lacking inspiration. Take a simple pencil. It is a pencil, ordinary, I have so many pencils about the house.
But when I start to consider the extraordinary within that simple pencil, my imagination is sharpened...the pencil become the Caran D'Ache watercolour pencil with my name stuck on it by my mother, one of a tine of individual named pencils that she bought for me as a child, named so that I wouldn't lose them at school!
The pencil has become the small stub that once graces my grandmother's handbag, along with her smelling salts. The branded pencil that I picked up a hotel room many moons ago that transports me back to another life.
Thank you Charlotte. You have breathed some deep and grounded clarity into my writing life, and the web of my relationships, allowed me to feel the depth of the intention that guides my writing these days, something in my bones, my blood, my fascia, that has a fire of its own. And allies, friend, beloveds. I stand as the guardian of this fire, protecting it, especially when it falters, flickers, assaulted by the great storms of our collapsing world.
Where I reside, is snow, new snow fell, water paths iced or water edges with snow and ice. For the spring session, what can you say in dm or here that this water based exploration will be of need from me?
Bless you for your emptying out here. I did read 'The Writing Life' at your recommendation from the last writing - and it gifted me such the profound moment of 'constantly returning to the edge of wonderment - what is -humanly- possible' (especially in terms of writing, but I'm sure you could uncover that sub-liminality).
The Uneasy Chari - what a gift. As I write, and now have to trudge through major edits - I wish I could (always) create elsewhere. I have a seat at the kitchen table, with a hardback chair and lack of air. The only Nature I bear witness to is the limited view of a streetside window - and thankfully, one meager tree in my neighbors front is where my eyes regularly rise - being witness to the ever changing sky.
It is gray today, usually a gift in Arizona - yet for myself; the cold, the wet, and insomnia lived days deter me from feeling the essence of my writing.
All in all - where I'm getting at - I often wish I was out in Nature - writing for that pure prose connected to the depth of it all - yet, yes - I would be distracted. It is here, in my most human place - that I can create for my community.
That's a great question posed..how to enter the extraordinary in the ordinary. I think for me it's tuning into to see the extraordinary within the ordinary. Things we take for granted easily become ordinary and seemingly mundane, lacking inspiration. Take a simple pencil. It is a pencil, ordinary, I have so many pencils about the house.
But when I start to consider the extraordinary within that simple pencil, my imagination is sharpened...the pencil become the Caran D'Ache watercolour pencil with my name stuck on it by my mother, one of a tine of individual named pencils that she bought for me as a child, named so that I wouldn't lose them at school!
The pencil has become the small stub that once graces my grandmother's handbag, along with her smelling salts. The branded pencil that I picked up a hotel room many moons ago that transports me back to another life.
The humble pencil is no longer ordinary.
Thank you Charlotte. You have breathed some deep and grounded clarity into my writing life, and the web of my relationships, allowed me to feel the depth of the intention that guides my writing these days, something in my bones, my blood, my fascia, that has a fire of its own. And allies, friend, beloveds. I stand as the guardian of this fire, protecting it, especially when it falters, flickers, assaulted by the great storms of our collapsing world.
Where I reside, is snow, new snow fell, water paths iced or water edges with snow and ice. For the spring session, what can you say in dm or here that this water based exploration will be of need from me?
Charlotte!
Bless you for your emptying out here. I did read 'The Writing Life' at your recommendation from the last writing - and it gifted me such the profound moment of 'constantly returning to the edge of wonderment - what is -humanly- possible' (especially in terms of writing, but I'm sure you could uncover that sub-liminality).
The Uneasy Chari - what a gift. As I write, and now have to trudge through major edits - I wish I could (always) create elsewhere. I have a seat at the kitchen table, with a hardback chair and lack of air. The only Nature I bear witness to is the limited view of a streetside window - and thankfully, one meager tree in my neighbors front is where my eyes regularly rise - being witness to the ever changing sky.
It is gray today, usually a gift in Arizona - yet for myself; the cold, the wet, and insomnia lived days deter me from feeling the essence of my writing.
All in all - where I'm getting at - I often wish I was out in Nature - writing for that pure prose connected to the depth of it all - yet, yes - I would be distracted. It is here, in my most human place - that I can create for my community.
And the responsibility I have to my ritual.
Blessed Be