Skip to main content

Day 30 in the Wild-erness


It is already day 30 of 40 days of writing! I can't believe it!

Showing up every day to write has been powerful. Some days stand out more than others. Some days have felt like I was letting myself squeak by with a little too easy. Reminds me of those workouts where you put the time in, but you don't break a sweat. It is hard to feel good about them, but the intention is there. However, showing up consistently is teaching me not to judge those days, and certainly not to abandon ship because of them.

I am realizing that showing up for writing is part of what makes me me. Showing up to create is part of what makes me me. This is a huge realization!

This process of consistently giving time to the creator part of me is making me realize that not giving it time was like depriving a part of my body from getting the supply of blood it needs. Who knew that it would take a 40 day stint to take the tourniquet off!

It is interesting to me how long it takes us to nurture our creative selves, and how hard it is to allow this process of awakening. Seems beliefs about the have's and the have not's are not limited to money. Creative poverty is just as pervasive and long-suffering. And I wasn't even aware of this poverty in my life until now!!

I love the book Women Who Run with the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. I think it should be a required read for all. She suggests that this become our new mantra, and I am wholeheartedly adopting this:

"I love my creative life more than I love cooperating with my own oppression."

This quote feels paramount at the moment.

Sending love into the blogosphere! XO
Labels:

Comments

  1. ElizabethAugust 18, 2013 at 7:48 AM

    Bloom on, Brooke! I am hoping one day to return to writing. In the midst of moving and with a husband recovering from three tick borne diseases. All will be well. I am just behind on everything. Congratulations on your passing the halfway point in your wilder-ness adventure!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Leah GriffithAugust 21, 2013 at 7:25 AM

    Brooke, I am so proud of you. I mean this in the most empowering way. By you doing this I feel I can do this. Somehow I feel plugged in to you. It's a good thing;)
    I just returned from nearly a month of travel and I feel I am ready to create a marketing plan for my dear, Cosette's Tribe. I've been avoiding this (and life in general) for over a year now. I believe I'm coming alive again!
    Love! Love! Love!
    Keep going!
    Leah

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

♥ Thank you for taking the time connect with me here. ♥

Popular posts from this blog

Here With You

Photo by Daria Obymaha on Pexels.com Sinking lips into your tiny round cheeks, I'm home. Holding your tiny head to my heart, caressing my chin to your downy baby 'chicken fluff' we'll come to call it later, I'm home. Taking in your baby magic scent, I'm home. Pressing nose to nose, forehead to forehead, staring wide-eyed into each other's eyes, I'm home. Toting little bum and dangling legs around my middle, I'm home. Filled with purpose as you point where to go, what you see, I'm home. Your eyes, new windows to a world I thought I knew, I'm home. Holding you with fever, picking you up when you fall, I'm home. Navigating the years between, boxes of your firsts, every paint brush and pen stroke a miracle, I'm home. Saving pottery penguins, turtles, shiny red roses, a burrito with all the fixings immortalized in clay, I'm home. Kid sister fruit and craft stand on the corner, change clinking in coin purse, mag
2 comments
Read more

Partaking of the Fruit

Photo by Anya Vasilieva on Pexels.com What I most struggle with in creative writing is that there are some ideas that just feel like they belong in the ether, in the natural born clouds. They aren’t meant to be pinned down, and every time I try to pin them down into a practical form on a page, I wound them a little bit, and must throw them back up into the ether for repair, to restore their more nebulous characteristics. This content isn’t supposed to have legs and weight, and to make noise when it walks, or to have such things as a name and defining characteristics. Rather, just whiffs of possibility that hint at an undercurrent of parallel worlds so vast and amazing as to put any Tolkien or Rowling to shame. Its just supposed to hang there, ripe for plucking, but the plucker beware. The fruit bruises easily. And yet, there are those books that seem to pin down something that doesn’t maim the central cast of characters, and in fact broadens the material into something that change
2 comments
Read more

Storyholder

Photo by Ben Herbert on Pexels.com I’m standing on a cliff overlooking the water’s edge. The sky is present, hanging there in its vastness, holding this moment with symphonic strains of gray and electric buzz. Watching, suspended, sensing. I see to both sides of me vast white cliffs carved out by relentless grasping of the ocean extending down the coastline. The earth where I am standing up above gives just the right yield and welcome, with its soft grass and dainty yellow flowers, falsely giving the impression of delicacy, when anyone can see that they are hardy to withstand the harshness of forces here. There is an undeniable tightness of gravity here, pinning me down, tugging at me, slowing down my step. I feel as if this force could just sweep me away with the littlest of a flick, like an ant off the table. It screams danger while it beckons. My life had been recently taking on new grander design dimensions when this place and I met. Dating a new man, after being a singl
1 comment
Read more