Consider the Harvest

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I would like to beg you dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.
                      - Rainer Maria Rilke, 1903 in Letters to a Young Poet


Autumn brings a time of vibrance and change. Glimmers of orange, crimson, magenta, and flashes of gold permeate the days. As shades of blue search for a turn, gray flannel consumes the clouds. Landscapes arouse with lightning, thunder and showers. Scents of cinnamon and cider fill the air along with aromas of wood smoke from chimneys. The breeze tastes of woodsmoke and promise.


Nature’s multiple personality during the fall season reminds us to consider possible changes and pursue, rather than judge, our writing.

It becomes a time to explore and pile questions upon questions instead of a search for answers. A pondering of  “…and then what” provides possibilities. We mine for more understanding if we permit the questions to climb upon one another. They will wrestle for opportunities we have not considered.

Consider these ten questions. They will spark others as you write to them. Respond only with more questions. See what happens.

l.  How would you answer Rilke’s question:

"...ask yourself in the most silent hour of your night: must I write?"

2.  How are you with your writing?

3.  What biases affect your writing? The best way to combat biases involves recognizing their existence.
     Will you list and write to them?

4.  What amuses you about your writing?

5.  How do you write about what feels wrong?

6.  Do you celebrate your strengths in writing?  In what ways?

7.  How do you provide constructive feedback for your writing? If not, who does?

8.  If you considered your heart’s desire about your writing, what would it involve?

9.  What do you write away from? How can you bring it closer to you?

10. What’s the greatest question your writing nudges in you?

Take time to involve yourself with the questioning process. If it inspires an insight you would like to share, include it here for everyone to read.

Write to Discover!

Denise Leverton knew from childhood that she wanted to be a writer. When she was 17, she had her first poem published in Poetry Quarterly. She wrote, "One is in despair over the current manifestation of malevolent imbecility and the seemingly invincible power of rapacity, yet find oneself writing a poem about the trout lilies in the spring woods." She discovered ways to get beyond abstract words and share emotions metaphorically.

Leverton claimed, "I'm not very good at praying, but what I experience when I'm writing a poem is close to prayer. I feel it in different degrees and not with every poem. But in certain ways writing is a form of prayer."

Do you ever feel that your writing provides a way to release frustrations and reach a higher level of understanding of yourself and life? Today find a metaphor that gets beyond words like: despair, malevolent imbecility and rapacity. See what your writing will help you discover in a field of crimson!

Permission to Rest!

When rushing to create a product, writers often power from idea to solution and avoid the percolation process. Although they accomplish a result, they may have missed insights gained from the incubation period so vital to the creative process. An interval of rest and diversion from thoughts and brain noise helps everyone reach the "Aha" moment with more possibilities.

During a period of not writing, notions and ideas flicker the synapses in kaleidoscopic fashion. With deadlines approaching, it becomes difficult to let that "nothing" happen. Even a short break will prove valuable. After a respite, a feeling of freshness and invigoration pushes one into the final stage of writing.

The ancient Greeks and Romans believed the magic of brain swirl depended on channeling from the Muses. Unknowingly, while leaving it to the Gods, they permitted time for rest to take over. They also enjoyed bacchanalia for diversion.

Elias Howe, an adapter of the sewing machine, became frustrated with the notion of the sewing needle because he could not determine how to thread and mechanize it. One day he stopped and stared out the window. His mind spun in reverie.

Later he and told his wife he had a daydream of standing inside a black pot of boiling water in the jungle. A native came to him ready to thrust a spear. He looked up and noticed the spear had a hole in its tip. When he returned to his work, he decided to try a hole in the tip of the needle in his machine. Aha!

It takes courage and resolve to rest, try daydreaming, or do nothing during a writing project. Just writing the word "rest" feels like procrastination or a retreat into laziness.

I have discovered naps and running plunge me into the "doing nothing" space. When my autonomic system takes over in both cases, I dwell in a cocoon of awareness. After working on a writing project with intensity this silent awareness opens my mind to break throughs. It becomes a diversion needed although many would not call it true "rest."

Each writer has a different way of accessing this place of rest as a springboard to illumination. Take time from a writing project to investigate your place of silent awareness. Does this work during the moments of tranquility before sleep or in moments upon awakening?

Do you make discoveries in the flow during a run or walk? Will breathing exercises push you into a calm and tranquil state. Will meditation provide the rest needed?

Creative Write: Define in writing what a place of rest means to you. During a time of frustration in writing, give yourself the permission to rest. Then write about the process and results.