On writing toward joy

Today I NEED to write. There’s a reminder on my calendar: “All Notes (From Toad Hall) to Matthew (our editor) by Friday.” I don’t think I’ll make it. But I keep on telling myself, try, concentrate. You’ll be okay. And in the voice of Tim Gunn: “Make it work.”

It is chilly and gray outside. So not distracted by latest birth of crocus bloom. On sunny days I check on them every sixty seconds. A huge responsibility. I have a cup of French press beside me. I’ve shut Denis’ office door so I don’t hear his music playing. I’ve chased down the latest copy of the magazine I wanted to quote here. Finally found it. Right on top of a pile of junk on my desk. It was there all the time. THAT’S discouraging.  Don’t know where my cell is. I’ll let it stay lost awhile. Started a load of laundry churning in the basement. As soon as I post this I’m shutting email off. I’ve promised myself a reward for just keeping my butt to the chair the next three hours, even if I don’t get a single completed sentence. I’ll bet you’d like to know what that reward is? I’m not telling.

 Am determined to keep writing toward God’s voice, though I stumble and listen with dull ears.

The most beautiful paintings and sculptures, the greatest poetry, have not always been born from torment or bitterness. Often they have sprung from contemplation, from joy, to create from an instinct or wonder toward all things. To create from joy, to create from wonder, demands a continual discipline, a great compassion….With time and sincerity, you will discover a way to work and write that does not harm you spiritually, that does not tempt you to vanity, that is the deepest expression of your spirituality. You will find a voice that is not your voice only, but the voice of Reality itself…If you can be empty enough, that voice can speak through you. If you can be humble enough, that voice can inhabit you and use you.    – Thuksey Rinpoche, Sun Magazine.