Thursday, March 26, 2015
Learning to write well, and growing in my poetry writing mean finding balance between asking for help and trusting my instincts.
Sometimes, I search for water before I have taken the time to know the depth of my own thirst. At those times, my longing outstrips my patience and I make mistakes. It is necessary to gauge both the depth of what I need and what I can hold, before seeking, before opening my mouth to drink.
When I do not trust my instincts, the flood gates burst open. I get in over my head and nearly drown. Tidal waves carry me away from where I really want to go. It becomes a question of survival and adaptation ... grow gills, swim, develop another row of teeth.
It is hard to accept that it may take more years to acquire a sense of wholeness in my writing, more years than I had hoped. But I have learned this: My writing requires learning to live with the tensions of my own evolution, learning to quiet my doubts, and yet to proceed.
It requires trusting myself to know what I need to quench my thirst.
This blog post is a part of my reflections from an online retreat study I followed with The Prayer Bench offered by Janice MacLean. You can find out more about her online retreats at: