It’s a funny thing. This writing. I love it. The stillness. The time to be curious. Without purpose, other than the presence to sit, ask and allow.
That was my intention. To write for me. For no other purpose than to lose myself for a while in the play of creating. To use my thoughts and feelings as the ingredients, to mix them in my mind and see how it looked and sometimes tasted when it was all laid out on the page. But secretly, I still hoped there was a purpose. That somehow this blog would become something. Something beyond my studio. Because I struggle to lay down the purpose, the goals, the doing.
I think, like any exercise, I am building my strength and my resilience. My writing muscles are being used regularly, fed with inspiration and are showing me the benefits. In courage.
Yesterday, a work thing finished early, and rather than spinning straight back to the office for more doing, I decided to take myself off to a cafe for some writing. Some being. I wasn’t feeling called to write a blog post, but to write something just for me. Some words I could feel bubbling away and I knew they would only be able to make their sense, once they were out, open on a page, and I could view them from the front, the side and even with one eye closed and my head tilted to the side. All the views help, they do!
So, I went, and I wrote. A thing that I stupidly called “The Manifesto”. I didn’t really know what that meant, it was just the word I was compelled to use. I checked with Mr Google (my new English teacher) this morning, and the Webster Dictionary tells me:
Definition of MANIFESTO
: a written statement declaring publicly the intentions, motives, or views of its issuer
It’s me. The one who keeps talking to you about that thing. That project. That possibility.
I know you think you couldn’t be the one for the job, but honestly, if you weren’t the one for the job, I wouldn’t have come to you with it.
So, there you have it. My calling and I seem to have got past our silly dance, where it keeps coming to me, and I keep pretending I don’t hear it and can’t feel it.
Now, just to figure out what I need to do. To show up.
And now begins another game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. The twist is, the game is now played with the “how” piece, not the “what”.
Spin me, baby, spin me, and we’ll see where the pin lands 🙂