I sit at the table
and time drifts by.
The weight of the pen is loose
in my fingers.
The paper
cool, and rough.
No matter how long I stare,
thought do not appear.
So I scatter words
across the page
Like bones
And wait
for the Oracle
to reveal
her Wisdom.
Today while walking, two men passed me. They smelled of old books.
Not long afterwards, I saw them admiring a tree. One patted it with affection and said “I’m sure this tree has stories to tell.” The other nodded.
Later I saw them again, looking at the plants in the garden. First one would say something about it, then the other. Sharing their knowledge, not in competition, but in conversation. They looked at each other often in the way of loving understanding that only people who’ve been companions a long time do. In my head I named the men Verso and Recto… facing pages in a book.
I sat on a bench and began to doodle, as I sometimes do there. Doodling for me is a way to turn off my Inner Narrator- that constant voice in my head. I don’t think about what comes next; I just let the pen go where it will on the paper. This time, I realized.. I was drawing the way the garden sounded and felt. I was drawing sensation.. not what I saw. I tuned in and continued with this focus. I will leave it to you to interpret what I was hearing, seeing, and feeling.
I’ve done this with creating music, or dancing before, but not drawing, and it felt amazing.
Will you take a moment to let your Inner Narrator settle and silence? What do you hear? What do you feel? What does that look like?
I’d love to see what you come up with!
craftingthespirit.com 