|
You didn’t tell me much about your
poetry or what got you stuck. Why is that?
After getting your email, I sat
down and got very quiet while visualizing you
sitting across from me in the room. I thanked the
Muse and invited inspiration.
Suddenly I imagined a flock of
birds – crows – swooping down over a barn. The barn
was weathered, pale red,
leaning toward the northern horizon. You were
standing with me and our condensing breath was white
on the wind.
I’m sensing an inability for you
to be honest with yourself about some important
issue and feel some fear around your edges. Money
should not be an issue at this point if you put your
trust in your feelings. Intuit what needs to go on
the page before you. Let the words create you.
Maybe for now you need to find
some idea and express it without words. Have you
tried writing a poem with food or paper or exercise?
Words can be so limiting especially when you see how
fragile you are, how mortal. Let things go now – let
the words go – and by their release they might come
back to you anew.
Go outside and
ask Mother Nature for help; tell the sky you need
inspiration; dance until you drop onto the dusty
floor.
Write to me
more with added details and perhaps we can
circumvent this block together. It's not all
in the details; it might be in the unfocused, fuzzy
part of life. Write that down. You might
need it next Thursday. |
