Sometimes I don’t have words either.
I get really quiet.
I reach inside and high as I can at the same moment.
And I do it without caring who’s looking.
When I first started writing, my words were very literal.
Later they were rich, but wispy, hardly there at all. like this
I said not really. . . .
It takes reflection to write.
I bring myself inside and though my eyes I am where I’m imagining. I’m in tune with my “mind’s eye,” but I’m not picturing. I’m listening and seeing the colors and words of the situation I’m feeling.
I’m doing it now to explain how I get into the place where I write — it’s my soul. It’s depth of feeling. It’s heaven. Nothing hurts. Words are free.
My head and my heart are saying the same thing.
It starts by being really quiet.
The you reach inside and high as you can at the same moment.
And you do it without caring who’s looking.
Ever reached like that with anything?
–ME “Liz” Strauss
Work with Liz!!
Liz, I think the coolest thing about your reaching is that you can do it in a way that brings us with you. There are a lot of beautiful writers out there, but most of them can’t do that.
There is a book I read a while ago, maybe ten years, called Anam Cara (which means soul friend), that starts something like this:
“Humans are new here. Above us, the galaxies dance out toward infinity. Yet the smallest stone is millions of years older than us. In your thoughts, the silent universe seeks echo. An unknown world aspires to reflection. Words are the oblique mirrors that hold your thoughts. You gaze into these word-mirrors and catch glimpses of meaning, belonging and shelter. Behind their bright surfaces is the dark and silent.”
You write like you’re talking to your soul friend, and the same is true when you respond to folks. It amazes me how you do that, because as real as I am I just don’t think I have that much genuine in me.
I don’t think I’m a reacher. Either it pours out and I can’t contain it, or it’s hiding someplace and I let it be (for fear of waking the sleeping thing — don’t poke the bear, right?). I always wanted to be a reacher, but I’m just the wrong kind of water sign. 🙂
Hi Amy,
I sit here reading over and over
these words that you wrote and how they say something you’re not hearing. I can’t tell what you can or cannot do, but I know that whatever you decide is not yours will never be, even if it’s there waiting to show itself.
I believe that reaching is natural, instinctual, like a baby’s hand wraps around a mother’s finger. I believe that open trusting feels better than protecting, but that the world hurts it out of us . . . so we forget what open means. I believe that the most powerful action a human can take is to love unconditionally.
You said,
. . . as real as I am I just don’t think I have that much genuine in me.
That’s beyond beautiful and amazing. It’s stunning and touching in its pure elegance and simplicity.
Hey Liz — YOU’RE beyond beautiful and amazing, just for having all these words inside you to reach for. (Stealing from a friend here but) “that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” 🙂
I think this may be a case where we’re seeing the same thing two different ways. I’m not sure. What you’re talking about coming naturally (at least what I think you’re talking about) I don’t think of as reaching. When I think reaching, I think of folks who sit around in the quiet (meditating or whathaveyou) reaching inside themselves (or outside themselves). Sort of like the process you described of closing your eyes and entering that universe. That is something I would like to do, but it is just so far from what I’m wired for that it physically hurts my head to do that kind of reaching. I love you for being able to do it. Maybe one day I will be able to do it too, but for now the pain of getting there just isn’t worth it to me. But fear not, watching you do it is almost as fun.
Instinctual reaching, sure… that I can do. Um. Sometimes.
Never get me started about pain or love or fingerwrapping. 🙂 All I’ll bore you with (since my comments are already ten times longer than the actual post) is I’ve been told by 407.5 gurus that it IS possible to get back something you don’t remember you once had. But that’s one big thing I’m not ready to reach for yet. So in that regard, I admire you for not being like me. It’s a huge huge YAY for you.
You can be quiet and reachy and stuff and not go crazy. An admirable quality/skill indeed.
Oh looky, my muse is back from her midnight bender with a new beginning to a story I finished an hour ago without her. Goody.
(Note to self: stop reading queen lizzy’s blog in the middle of the night)
🙂
No worries,
I’m not asking you to change the way you do things. I think you get to where you need to be perfectly. And your muse takes care of the rest. 🙂
Beautiful.