I nervously sat in a room darkened with my fear, the gloom sat on the walls my melancholy a tangible feeling to anyone who passes this room of darkness, it was not what I intended, all I wanted to do is write a poem, but a fear-filled mind quickly can conjure nightmares that even makes sunlight dim to nightfall, I was afraid that I will fail. (I fucking hate failing)
While my mind entertains these lies I cannot think clearly, I cannot put pen to paper I cannot move all that keeps popping up inside is why are you doing this, who are you fooling, why even try, you will get exposed as a fraud, with my cluttered mind laying heavy on my heart I could not write.
Walking outside in the light trying to breathe I go about my day as normal, knowing that today, I still need to write a poem.
I cannot recall what poem I wrote on that day but I know I had many similar days not as dramatic as that might have sounded but we all know that voice that pops up in the quite with your fingers on the keys or pen at hand or whatever you doing that voice that pops up often in the quiet spewing lies, lies that disqualifies and breaks down, lies that tries to avoid true quiet, the quiet that settles in your heart like a leaf on water, the quiet knowing of truth, that quiet place where you are still and you know you are.
Writing often requires quietly sitting and thinking what to write, what to rhyme, thinking of the characters and all their why’s and the what if’s in the stories, whatever you writing, sitting, and doing nothing is a part of it, drifting in thought sitting in the quiet.
It was hard for me to sit in the quiet because of the voices I mentioned, I believe all expression, has this challenge whatever your art, there is a stillness that must, for us to truly express our heart.
I believe many of us struggle with this.
Life is just one enormous conglomeration of noise, alarms wake us, notifications on our phones now we always have music with us in our ears, or podcasts and radio, traffic, peoples voices, and opinions, we move from noise to noise, we go home and watch shows or listen to music, always noise, my mother will work around the house but the TV will be on the news not watching but listening, we always have noise, I think we fear stillness, quiet, not moving, well I know that I struggle with it, I always have to do something, have to seem busy, someone must not see me just sitting for no apparent reason, we have to make noise and “hustle” that is a successful life.
The quiet will bring stillness and awareness of the moment and a connection with you that is what I believe we fear, ourselves facing the truth of us.
I don’t want to go on this too deep for now but I am reminded of the quote in Coach Carter
“It is our light, not our darkness, that most frighten us. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine as children do.”
I think we get glimpses of our light when we are still and that may frighten us because often that light seems contradictory to what we know as normal, but I want to write more about the practical things that happened as I forced myself to write a poem every day from Monday to Friday for ten weeks.
I got used to the quiet, instead of having this epic battle with my mind and the fear of not getting anywhere I found peace within the process a comfort with that bit of discomfort and my mind started to work with me, I found stories everywhere.
Often I would sit in the house and nothing is coming to mind, maybe only words or small ideas but nothing substantial, not that epic flow, and I would often sit two hours having written only three lines or less or more but it’s not poetry it is just words or phrases, I would then still not worry or fear I would do something ells and come back or what I recently started to do is go to another place, jumping on my bicycle and go I like nature so I would find a place near water and sit and write sometimes, I would go to a place to buy a coffee, I did not always like that because that felt too stereotypical (also just a battle with an illusion.)
I would like to go to this pizza place and sit at this certain booth order a cappuccino and write and stories would come one of the poems was about a girl building her own pizza.
I would just walk outside my house find a place to sit and write about that spot, there were bees just humming above me as I sat in the shade of a tree and that became a poem everything started to whisper to me as I became comfortable with the stillness, even noisy places make for amazing poetry but I needed to be still within.
The noise in my mind was lies, mostly just what I thought people might think, and not living up to their expectations that I decide that they have, weird how we work( I don’t believe that I am the only one doing this) I immediately had a mind of disqualification before I could even write, I first had to battle this noise, I don’t have answers to a noiseless life, nor the five steps to becoming the world’s best selling author but what I have discovered for myself is that spending time with what you love will require a stillness of heart and that will force you to face you, and facing you, will reveal you and the lies that you believe then it slowly happens without you know, you are, I don’t know how it works all that I know is that it does and that we must, most of us want to become forgetting that we already are, and stillness of heart helps reveal that truth.
Now I am a lover of quiet places it encourages stillness.
Thank you for reading, have an epic day.
Peace and Love.