It’s an Indian taco spread, and I’ve heaped my plate. I’m munching homemade tortilla chips while I watch the birthday girl in the air-filled jump house. And one of my daughter’s friends, he says those words. “You’re a good writer, right?”
I stare a minute, and mutter quiet. “Um, I write.”
Mentally I smack myself upside the head. I’ve finally gotten used to saying, “I’m a writer. Yes, I’m a writer.” Claiming that. Declaring that.
But a “good” writer? I’m still working on it.
“Warning: Do not skip the tool of reading deprivation!” I can just see Julia wagging her finger at me, looking me stern in the eye.
No reading? That’s right: no reading. For most artists, words are like tiny tranquilizers . . . Like greasy food, it clogs our system. Too much of it and we feel, yes, fried . . . Reading deprivation casts us into our inner silence, a space some of us begin to immediately fill with new words–long, gossipy conversations, television bingeing, the radio as a constant, chatty companion. We often cannot hear our own inner voice of our artist’s inspiration, above the static . . . For most blocked creatives, reading is an addiction. We gobble the words of others rather than digest our own thoughts and feelings, rather than cook up something of our own. ~p. 87
Yeah, I don’t know if I can do that. Just thinking about it has blocked me this week. I went on a reading fast for an extended period once. Nothing but scripture. That was a good thing. Julia suggests only a week. But to not read your blogs for a whole week? I’d miss so much. I might starve without my word bread. Without your words.
Or would I? (No offense.)
Julia talks about spiritual seizures and surrender. And about how finding when we work with the morning pages, we can become aware of a sense of movement, a “current of change,” a “flow of grace.”
“We startle ourselves by saying yes instead of no to opportunities.”
Oh my goodness. Isn’t this what our pastor talked about on Sunday? The importance of flexibility. Of stepping into the unknown like Abraham. No map. Just going with the flow. Depending on His current. Bending and trusting.
He talked about how we’re all living in God’s Plan B after Adam and Eve got kicked out of the garden. But how He still has Plan A’s for us in the midst of Plan B. But if we don’t float with His Plan A, He’ll go to a Plan B. Like the Israelites. The plan was to “leave Egypt, get the Ten Commandments, move into the Promised Land. Two months tops.” But they wouldn’t move and ended up spending 40 years in the wilderness.
I don’t have 40 years to spend in the wilderness.
I startled myself this week. I responded to a synchronous turn in the river. I agreed to wade into an adventure that was not on my current map. The one that pointed across the ocean to another continent.
My husband put the financial nix on going to Kenya (my dream) over my birthday in January. A Compassion sponsor tour to meet our girl. I pouted awhile but yielded. And the next day the compass spun south, pointed to an island closer to home. I got an invitation from a friend to join her team heading to a Haitian orphanage in December.
“Your writing will never be the same,” she wrote.
I said yes.
With my husband’s blessing.
Who knows what possibility lies ahead?
And chances are I won’t be reading your blogs that week.
We’re working on weeks 4 and 5, “Recovering a Sense of Integrity” and “Recovering a Sense of Possibility.” Come on over to Tweetspeak Poetry as we continue to discuss The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron.