Some of my precious journals.
I turned the laptop on at 7:18 am; I usually sleep until around 8:30 or 9, but there's no shut eye when the workers outside are banging around and talking.
But it's okay, I wanted to poke around the internet for inspiration for a blog post. But what did I want to write about? What was stirring in my soul?
I read through my favorite blogs, perused Pinterest, but here's the thing...
nothing brings me to the words like ink and paper - how they flow, how they do their tango.
Other people's posts are inspiring, for sure, as well as Pinterest and random quotes and...but it's so easy to get distracted and read and pin for hours and somehow end up on Facebook playing Candy Crush. That's about the time I look at the clock and say, "Oh my goddess, what have I done?!"
But it's okay, I wanted to poke around the internet for inspiration for a blog post. But what did I want to write about? What was stirring in my soul?
I read through my favorite blogs, perused Pinterest, but here's the thing...
nothing brings me to the words like ink and paper - how they flow, how they do their tango.
Other people's posts are inspiring, for sure, as well as Pinterest and random quotes and...but it's so easy to get distracted and read and pin for hours and somehow end up on Facebook playing Candy Crush. That's about the time I look at the clock and say, "Oh my goddess, what have I done?!"
Photo Source: lovely-dreamy.tumblr.com
Julia Cameron is right about Morning Pages. Those three beautiful pages of longhand open a portal to some magical land in the mind.
It's like a secret garden overgrown with rose bushes and weeping willows and at first glance we wouldn't dare go in in fear of thorns and ghosts.
But moving our hand across the paper sweeps the cobwebs from the door and we push through and smell the sweetness of jasmine and taste the fullness of plump peaches.
It's actually rare that I write Morning Pages in the morning, but no matter what time of day or how stuck I am, when I move the pen, the words come. They have to!
At first they may come like a crying child to a doctor's office, stomping their feet and grasping onto chairs and door frames.
But after just a few minutes, the crying child dances.
My hand speeds across the page to keep up with my thoughts. Ideas fall like raindrops and splatter the paper.
Often, I don't want to stop at three pages.
It's like a secret garden overgrown with rose bushes and weeping willows and at first glance we wouldn't dare go in in fear of thorns and ghosts.
But moving our hand across the paper sweeps the cobwebs from the door and we push through and smell the sweetness of jasmine and taste the fullness of plump peaches.
It's actually rare that I write Morning Pages in the morning, but no matter what time of day or how stuck I am, when I move the pen, the words come. They have to!
At first they may come like a crying child to a doctor's office, stomping their feet and grasping onto chairs and door frames.
But after just a few minutes, the crying child dances.
My hand speeds across the page to keep up with my thoughts. Ideas fall like raindrops and splatter the paper.
Often, I don't want to stop at three pages.
Botanical Gardens, San Antonio, TX
So what I want to tell you is that if you want to write, you must go to the page.
There are inspiring books to read and pretty pictures to look at, but it all comes down to the page.
To write, we must do just that, no matter how loud the child is crying.
Get out your notebook, your favorite pen. Romance the page and seduce the words just by showing up.
The page is your secret garden and the words are waiting to bloom.
There are inspiring books to read and pretty pictures to look at, but it all comes down to the page.
To write, we must do just that, no matter how loud the child is crying.
Get out your notebook, your favorite pen. Romance the page and seduce the words just by showing up.
The page is your secret garden and the words are waiting to bloom.
