The past four hours weren’t just about book writing, but also about book making and book reading and book research. I showed up, kept my heart open, and trusted my innate wisdom about where to focus my attention, where to put my hands, where to place my heart.
I started with writing about simplicity and the tiny sacred moments of our lives, about fear and story, about making space for magic to unfold.
Then I read from Mark Nepo’s The Book of Awakening and Brene’ Brown’s Daring Greatly, and I wrote some more. I poked around Austin Kleon’s website. I looked at Christina Rosalie’s A Field Guide to Now, flipping through the pages and looking at the artwork. This is the kind of research I do when I’m writing. I had a silent, one sided, but very real conversation with each author, asking questions and offering gratitude.
After that, I moved to book making, working on a belated birthday present for a friend who I’ll be meeting for lunch later. I scissored, printed, and glue sticked images and wrote lines of poetry, quotes, and writing prompts in a journal whose cover I had painted earlier this summer.
What the above picture can’t show are the tears, the big idea I got, the glue that’s dried on my fingers, the hunger in my belly, the sound of Greg Laswell singing in the background, and the tenderness, the surrender, the letting go.
