Lucid Living and the Cloister Walk
11 Tuesday Oct 2011
alexa toolbar, bringing your talents to the table, Experience Telling, fear of complacency, finding your voice, Gwen Bell, listening to your voice, lucid living, Nicole Rushin, online prose writing, online writing, Poetry, prayer, search for authenticity, the cloister walk, why I write
The weather moves in, cooler, softer, the wind complains.
This past week has been a cloister walk of contemplation and change, of lucid living and tying together the pieces of what I have noticed.
And yet at the end of a long week I dreamt that I was holding back. I only thought I was bringing my best to the table, but alas, my moon has been hiding in strange places.
So I am bringing something a little different this week.
More prose, more about my journey and more of life through my eyes.
The Cloister Walk and Life Without Bread
This week I came to the profound realization that most of my angst and stress stem from a fear of complacency, causing me to micro-manage every detail of my life and my growth.
The things we most want to control we can’t
So it goes…
I joined in on a Google+ thread about the use of ‘I’ versus ‘We’ in writing. I read Gwen Bell’s posts on ‘Experience Telling‘ and signed up for her daily emails. I don’t know how, but this delicate blogging fairy somehow gave me permission to speak.
I also joined a peace circle on Google+ and then vowed to stop reading marketing blogs and how-to posts about writing and personal growth. It feels like removing bread from my diet, but I am determined.
I am removing people from my Social Media pages who banter on about politics and technical jargon. Social Media remains a place for me to find inspiration and to meet other inspiring people. I go there looking for new perspectives, for photography that captures the conversations of light, for poetry and for good writing.
My point in all this is to listen to my own voice and to stop worrying that I am doing it all wrong
To get in stride with my own feet
To feel my own breath…
Another huge hurdle for me this week was taking my Alexa toolbar down. I find that I sometimes go to my blog only to check my numbers.
Not having my toolbar there reminds me why I write. It reminds me to honor my writing as a practice and not to worry about my ranking or the ranking of others. I cannot judge my craft by statistics and by how many incoming links I have. I cannot judge others by this either.
On Naming Poetics
I also dealt with my resistance to putting myself and my writing into a finite box.
I resist titles, yet so much of internet marketing is about labels, finding the right keywords and niche definition.
I struggle with the balance of claiming a specific title as some sort of online writer and living a life that allows me to follow opportunity. The balance between learning Search Engine Optimization and honoring my writing as a soft place where the lines between who I am and how others see me disappear.
I resist calling myself a poet – but instead would like to simply live a poetic life.
Maybe all artists should cease calling themselves artists and strive to live artistically.
I resist the words finding my voice and opt instead to listen to my voice. For any artist, writer or creative seeker the voice is there, it is when we cease the seeking that it is loudest.
The Farmer’s Prayer
I also overhead a conversation between an 89 year old farmer and some other members of his church. His sage advice was that ‘we are always praying’.
We never stop – so his further advice was to remove all the negative words from our language – the language we use with ourselves as well as with others.
We are always praying
Always in dialogue with source
However you define source
Just as our walks never really cease the dialogue never stops…
I listen and I notice things – this is what I call lucid living; being awake to the dream of life, noticing the things I notice.
Knowing the birds sing in frequencies that tether the blanket of space and time to our souls. I hear them because they are singing for me. You hear them because they are singing for you. Listen.
The 89 year old farmer was singing to me. He could just as well have been a bird – I was merely noticing.
Listening to the Lamp Light
My best writing is found in this listening
The sound hovers light over a clear lake
Where ripples are only made
By the sound of migrating geese
The glassy mirror -
Blurred only by twisting yellow leaves
I confirm that my cloister walk is a perpetual search for authenticity.
It is about seeking truth and sharing that truth through my writing.
Being authentic and living in integrity is the most valuable thing I can bring to the table.
Bringing it through the written word is my truth.
So how is it, at the end of this lucid week, my dreams were telling me I was not bringing my best to the table.
Telling me I was holding back?
So, I erase the lines
Lines drawn in an attempt to define
I erase the lines and cease trying
I cease interfering with my life
And retreat to the soft place
To the listening lake
To the quiet Monday evening lamp light
Where solitude is a dog-eared page
Folded upon the day
The wind picks up and complains again
I resist the urge to over explain…
Leave me a comment and be sure to join the conversation on Google+.
What breakthroughs have you had this week in your creative journey? Your growth?