i'm fast becoming one of those people who stops and stares at a puddle of water, noting how the sunlight bounces off its ripples and waiting for some bit of divine intuition to strike me. it seems silly and indulgent and maybe even childlike, though i don't think it's necessarily a bad thing. i've always taken myself a little too seriously, ever since i was a little girl, and so any hint of levity, for me, is progress.
my latest favorite thing is watching the visualization bars when i listen to music on my computer. it's intoxicating how all these different bars of light activate different parts of my brain and essentially massage them into activity after i've been staring at a white computer screen way too long waiting for the words to come.
i've also recently taken to writing at the schwartzmann library on 42nd street. painted on the ceiling, gilded in gold and copper leaves, is a picture of a blue and lavender and violet sky filled with stormy clouds. when i look up, for a moment i am not sitting at a long, oak desk, in the freezing air conditioning, writing this or that thing.
my yoga teacher did a meditation on waiting this week. she talked about how we're all so used to rushing ahead, getting disappointed when things don't pan out on our schedule, instead of waiting patiently and intentionally for our wishes to arrive.
i suppose i am now figuring out what to do while i wait for the muse, instead of pushing on in spite of her absence. it's funny how it seems like nothing is really happening, when in fact everything is happening, all at once, while i wait.
this was just an aside, and perhaps unnecessary. i have actual things to say, but later. now back to writing.
my latest favorite thing is watching the visualization bars when i listen to music on my computer. it's intoxicating how all these different bars of light activate different parts of my brain and essentially massage them into activity after i've been staring at a white computer screen way too long waiting for the words to come.
i've also recently taken to writing at the schwartzmann library on 42nd street. painted on the ceiling, gilded in gold and copper leaves, is a picture of a blue and lavender and violet sky filled with stormy clouds. when i look up, for a moment i am not sitting at a long, oak desk, in the freezing air conditioning, writing this or that thing.
my yoga teacher did a meditation on waiting this week. she talked about how we're all so used to rushing ahead, getting disappointed when things don't pan out on our schedule, instead of waiting patiently and intentionally for our wishes to arrive.
i suppose i am now figuring out what to do while i wait for the muse, instead of pushing on in spite of her absence. it's funny how it seems like nothing is really happening, when in fact everything is happening, all at once, while i wait.
this was just an aside, and perhaps unnecessary. i have actual things to say, but later. now back to writing.
2 comments:
I like.
I count the ceiling boards (or I do when I live in a place with them) and wonder what would happen if I laid them out differently.
Just the post I needed to read today, about waiting patiently rather than pushing on forcefully.
Did you actually paint the ceiling, or were you only figuratively speaking? Either way, it sounds exciting. Lol.
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