“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:8-9
The Artist's Life says to wake up and unconsciously and fluidly write out three pages of thoughts, feeling, angst, and desires without ceasing. These pages are to awaken a greater sense of creativity. They are about anything and everything that crosses my mind in the duration of the exercise and are for my eyes only.
An excerpt:
Today is the first day I will not wear my second hand Maui Jim's to darken my overloaded or dulled senses on my morning commute. The sunglasses that let me drift in and out of consciousness without worrying who is burning holes into the outside of my still delicate eyelids. I won't be weighed down with my character's clothes thrown over my right forearm or feel trepidation of the wardrobe woman's disapproving look. This morning, I will stay idle and listen to the rumbling of full kegs make their pilgrimage to the bowels of the pub for impending consumption. Yes, this day I will drink my coffee slow and resist the urge to body check the poor soul who chose to walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk while I follow the preschool rules of right hand on the rail. Deliberately and with full intention, I will slowly drop ice cubes onto my orchids roots and think this spring, you will bloom. The inclination to make excuses for my sighing is replaced with permission to breathe out fully. Blow it out. And then breathe in. And thanks to Bloomberg, breathe in without the inhalation of cigarette smoke, just exhaust and soot. Soot that gathers on my windowsill and reminds me of the intoxicating air New York City is surrounded with. Air that makes you run amok with the other bulls on auto pilot programmed for success or affirmation or something greater. Air so fulfilling it makes you hungrier. And makes you want to sleep the slumber of the dead.
My last thought was that I should write about others and then I read this relieving reminder.
If writers stopped writing about what happened to them, then there would be a lot of empty pages. ~ Elaine Liner
Why do you keep your thoughts hidden inside?
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