Ralph Waldo Emerson writes, "Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." What a thrilling idea that you don't know where your own writing will lead you each day.
TOO FAR GONE BY TUESDAY
Colors can push you over the
edge but I really like the sketchiness
of pencil-sound, the way the round
undefined housing protects me
from the lead.
I prefer the promise
of erasability, so ironically decisive,
yet I cross things out
out of habit.
Even this writing
is not without some danger
as the friction can become tiresome,
can become needy,
can become divisive,
and I might get caught up
in the reflection
of that shiny metal piece
that ties eraser to wood--
a small totem,
that little connector,
so needlessly intricate
and cold.
Tuesday's Challenge: Right Now
If you need specific instructions, check out this suggested practice from writingfromthe soul.net.
- Set the timer for 10 minutes and free write without stopping, beginning with the prompt “Right now...” Don’t stop to reflect, edit, try to make sense or write a “piece.” Simply finish the sentence and keep going until you run out of things to say, then write the prompt again and finish the sentence, and so on, until the timer goes off. You don’t need to write fast — just without pausing to think. Be willing to let the words surprise you: The idea is to relax your mind so that you can source the layer under your discursive thoughts — though it is not “wrong” to write your conscious thoughts and feelings if they are dominating. In fact, there is no way to do it wrong.
- When the timer goes off, take a few breaths and then read aloud what you wrote, listening deeply to yourself. Try to resist the temptation to read it back in your head — even whispering it aloud makes a difference. Notice what your mind does when you read it back — expectations, fears, pleasures and judgments will likely arise. Allow them to be just as they are in an atmosphere of warmth and openness. You might jot a few notes on what you notice at the end of your piece for later reference.
- Now scan through the writing and underline any phrases, sentences or sections that strike you as particularly alive or that intrigue you for some reason — you don’t need to know why. Any of these fragments can be used as a prompt for another piece of timed writing, either now or in your next session. When you do use these fragments as prompts, remember that you can always return to the prompt “Right now...” at any time while doing a timed writing. This is the fundamental prompt for this practice.
The practice can be done anywhere, and varying location and time of day when using the prompt “Right now...” can give you a fascinating glimpse into yourself as you go about your life, whether you sit for ten minutes with pen and paper under a tree or in a waiting room, in a hospital or at your kitchen table, at a posh resort or in a Bombay slum.
Naturally
BRING me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning’s flagons up,
And say how many dew;
Tell me how far the morning leaps,
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps 5
Who spun the breadths of blue!
Write me how many notes there be
In the new robin’s ecstasy
Among astonished boughs;
How many trips the tortoise makes, 10
How many cups the bee partakes,--
The debauchee of dews!
Also, who laid the rainbow’s piers,
Also, who leads the docile spheres
By withes of supple blue? 15
Whose fingers string the stalactite,
Who counts the wampum of the night,
To see that none is due?
Who built this little Alban house
And shut the windows down so close 20
My spirit cannot see?
Who ’ll let me out some gala day,
With implements to fly away,
Passing pomposity?
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,--
They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.