Writing & Journal Exercises

Assessment

Spiritual

What is your basic form of spirituality?

Insightful Truth.

Is your form of spirituality inherited (ie. your parent's religion) or self-chosen (or both)?  If self-chosen, what events led to this choosing?

Self-chosen.  I was invited to sit in a class in my very early twenties on a subject matter I studied, on my own, since I was in grade five.  I was asked to participate and share my wisdom.  The teacher said one significant word, and my whole life changed in that moment.  A spark ignited in me and my awakening began.  What followed were years and years of the intense hard work of self-development.

How satisfied are you with the spiritual aspect of your life?

Incredibly, though, attracting healthy members of my soul group has been challenging.

What portion of your life is spent in the practice of your spirituality?  Would you like this to be more or less?

Daily.  I live and breathe, thus I am spiritual.  I would like it to be more inclusive and companionship oriented.

What goals would you like to set for yourself spiritually, if any?  Is there spiritual programming from a childhood religion that you would like to recover or remove?

I have goals yes, and they are in constant progress.  I dealt with removing the majority of all types of programming in my early twenties including religious dogma.

Mental

What portion of your life is spent in mental activities (reading, writing, thinking, reasoning, solving problems, daydreaming)?  Would you like it to be more or less?

Daily.  I love my intelligence.  Expansion through knowledge and awareness brings me Joy.  I also love interaction - more mental activities that are inclusive of other cooperative and healthy minds is welcome.

How mentally stimulating is your work?  Your friendships?  Your home life?

Constant.  Though my stimulation needs are demanding, I am generous and patient.  My creativity enables me to self-generate expansive thought if I find something stagnating.  I have tons of books at home.  I'm always learning something.

How many books do you read in a month?  How many hours of TV or other entertainment?

Hmm.  I don't count.  I do aspire to reading a book a day.  As for television, I spent a lot less time watching it these days for lack of quality available.

Are you satisfied with your level of education?

Sore spot.  I wish there was an educational facility that would gain my respect enough to invest all that time and money whereby I would feel ennobled to have a title of achievement given by said establishment.  I feel I am very lucky to have developed my mind and intelligence in the way I have.  If they change the model of higher education and actually teach in a way that I can respect and works for me, I would happily join in.

What is your favourite mental activity and what do you get out of it?

Actually, it is stimulating and connected, insightful conversation.  I get the affirmation that I am enjoyed and appreciated when it happens - it gives me the affirmation that life is good and flowing positively.

Emotional

Over the course of the month, what emotional states do you spend the most time in (depression, elation, fear, joy, etc)?

Hmm.  Lately?  A lot of joy, some elation, some fear in the mornings, moments of deep sadness, struggle.  It's challenging for me since I am strongly empathic, but that's an accurate snapshot for the last two months or so.

How emotionally fulfilling do you find your life, your relationships, your work?

LOL. 

What goals would you choose for yourself emotionally (ie. to feel more confident, less angry, more passionate, more patient)?

To stop trying to figure out how to solve the cause of the suffering others create for me and find a way to rise above it all and carry on with joy and confidence.

Physical

Take time now to feel your body.  Where is it chronically tense, numb, painful?  Where does it feel good, full of energy and life, or pleasure?  Go into yourself deeply, exploring without judgment.  Write down places in your body that come to your attention, and what you feel there - both the good and the bad.

It's all good except I fell on my face in June, head first right on my nose; nosebleed.  It hasn't healed yet or hasn't healed properly.  

How much time in each week do you give to your body (working out, getting a massage, going for a walk, making love, etc)?

It used to be more.  The weather has gotten chillier and I've slowed down a bit.   Dancing is making up for some of the lessened walking in nature time.

What are your goals for your body (teeth fixed, new clothes, weight loss or gain, etc)?

I have a lot of goals.  Getting new clothes is one on the list.

(Questionnaire from The Sevenfold Journey by Anodea Judith & Selena Vega)

Red Pen

Red pen lightly rests on my USB cable.  Why is it there?  I used you, you stick!  Yes I did.  Your red liquid scrawled out my point of focus while I took an important call.  I must have set you there without thinking.  Red pencil crayons and markers are upright in a bamboo cup here next to me, beckoning or mocking this dear pen to jump in.   Of course, you're not an animate object, are you pen?  You are depending on me to serve your purpose.  I will.  I will.

In fact, let me grab you now.  *doodles something quickly*  Oh!  Clever!  Touche, red pen.  Yes, that finger puppet does bring back good memories, its true!  I have a picture of this puppet!

My friend dubbed him "Mion" because he looks like a lion and a moose.  Here are more pictures of Mion:

 

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

 

Cranberry Tea & Let it Be

Cranberry tea, red and tart, sits there while I work out a thought.  Bricks, thoughts, building like ants.  Must be careful, attentive to what you are building.  Easier still, to just let go, and keep the mind free and open.  

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write until you have arrived at a place that feels finished.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Both

Injured, it lept from branch to branch looking for respite, a red string tied to its leg.  Where ever this tiny bird looked, it saw the brightest golden light but the searing pain struck it dumb, paralyzed with fear.  The desire to jump right into that light and dissolve, was so strong.  It knew it could not and still continue its impulse to live.  So from branch to branch it lept, hoping for respite.

Within a dance of light, there is a center.  The compulsion to both find that center and penetrate, and to allow for the propulsion away from center happens simultaneously.  What cuts through both compulsions that brings you both to center and expanding, is being still, and true to yourself. 

A sketch dons my wall, in black and white.  Next to it,  a second sketch, in colour.   Both expressions of the same idea, both incomplete.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Joie De Vivre

I remember the smell of perfume on my skin.  It smelled intoxicatingly rich with the whimsy of coca cola and I felt good.  An aura of joie de vivre surrounded me and it became a uniquely eventful evening.  It renewed my faith in the power of attraction.

I remember the taste of citrus in the summer Sun.  You can taste it with your eyes as you tear into the orange sphere with your fingers.  The bright juicy inside glistening in the light, happy to be freed, happy to be appreciated.  And then a morsel to the tongue - sweetness and joy.

I remember the sound of love standing on stage after a long respite, singing with all its might.

I remember the sight of a rainbow, giant and clear, arching over Niagara Falls.  Majestic beauty.

I remember the touch of pastels as I blend the colours into each other with keen strokes of my fingers.  The grain of the strong paper beneath and the smooth gliding of the colour supporting my creative urge.

Exercise:  Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses.   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]

I remember the smell of perfume on my skin.  It smelled intoxicatingly rich with the whimsy of coca cola and I felt good.  An aura of joie de vivre surrounded me and it became a uniquely eventful evening.  It renewed my faith in the power of attraction.

I remember the taste of citrus in the summer Sun.  You can taste it with your eyes as you tear into the orange sphere with your fingers.  The bright juicy inside glistening in the light, happy to be freed, happy to be appreciated.  And then a morsel to the tongue - sweetness and joy.

I remember the sound of love standing on stage after a long respite, singing with all its might.

I remember the sight of a rainbow, giant and clear, arching over Niagara Falls.  Majestic beauty.

I remember the touch of pastels as I blend the colours into each other with keen strokes of my fingers.  The grain of the strong paper beneath and the smooth gliding of the colour supporting my creative urge.

Exercise:  Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses.   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]

I remember the smell of perfume on my skin.  It smelled intoxicatingly rich with the whimsy of coca cola and I felt good.  An aura of joie de vivre surrounded me and it became a uniquely eventful evening.  It renewed my faith in the power of attraction.

I remember the taste of citrus in the summer Sun.  You can taste it with your eyes as you tear into the orange sphere with your fingers.  The bright juicy inside glistening in the light, happy to be freed, happy to be appreciated.  And then a morsel to the tongue - sweetness and joy.

I remember the sound of love standing on stage after a long respite, singing with all its might.

I remember the sight of a rainbow, giant and clear, arching over Niagara Falls.  Majestic beauty.

I remember the touch of pastels as I blend the colours into each other with keen strokes of my fingers.  The grain of the strong paper beneath and the smooth gliding of the colour supporting my creative urge.

Exercise:  Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses.   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]

I remember the smell of perfume on my skin.  It smelled intoxicatingly rich with the whimsy of coca cola and I felt good.  An aura of joie de vivre surrounded me and it became a uniquely eventful evening.  It renewed my faith in the power of attraction.

I remember the taste of citrus in the summer Sun.  You can taste it with your eyes as you tear into the orange sphere with your fingers.  The bright juicy inside glistening in the light, happy to be freed, happy to be appreciated.  And then a morsel to the tongue - sweetness and joy.

I remember the sound of love standing on stage after a long respite, singing with all its might.

I remember the sight of a rainbow, giant and clear, arching over Niagara Falls.  Majestic beauty.

I remember the touch of pastels as I blend the colours into each other with keen strokes of my fingers.  The grain of the strong paper beneath and the smooth gliding of the colour supporting my creative urge.

Exercise:  Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses.   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]

I remember the smell of perfume on my skin.  It smelled intoxicatingly rich with the whimsy of coca cola and I felt good.  An aura of joie de vivre surrounded me and it became a uniquely eventful evening.  It renewed my faith in the power of attraction.

I remember the taste of citrus in the summer Sun.  You can taste it with your eyes as you tear into the orange sphere with your fingers.  The bright juicy inside glistening in the light, happy to be freed, happy to be appreciated.  And then a morsel to the tongue - sweetness and joy.

I remember the sound of love standing on stage after a long respite, singing with all its might.

I remember the sight of a rainbow, giant and clear, arching over Niagara Falls.  Majestic beauty.

I remember the touch of pastels as I blend the colours into each other with keen strokes of my fingers.  The grain of the strong paper beneath and the smooth gliding of the colour supporting my creative urge.

Exercise:  Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses.   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]

Dreams

Anchored in and standing tall, my feet felt comforted with a sense of responsibility.  I watched cars and pedestrians go by when the two dangling cords on the window blinds reminded me strongly of dog tags.  Then, I spontaneously began singing.  It was a made up song with a theme of dreams, or dreamers.  I could feel myself singing from the bottom of my toes to the top of my head - all throughout my body.  It was a luxurious feeling - a strong one.

Am I Just A Lighthouse

I remember in high school writing a poem accompanied by my hand drawn image of a Lighthouse.  It spoke of being a solitary bearer of light, showing the way to sailors, attempting to protect them from hitting rocks and shallow waters.

Though, writing in a lighthouse is not particularly ideal, long term, it would be a neat two-week experience.  I say this because of the 911 feel a lighthouse carries with it.  Fodder for the writing perhaps, but writing requires a stillness and peace.  Also, seeing the beautiful ocean waves below, so enticing - it would be hard to stay up there and write all day.

Comparably, writing on a mountain would be lovely.  Specifically in one of those gigantic windowed homes made of gorgeous rich wood, overlooking a vast landscape below.  Now that would be magnificent.

Exercise:  Imagine The Ideal - Imagine an ideal pleasant writing spot for yourself, where you feel comfortable, have privacy, and can establish a supportive routine.   [a variation of Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Life

Something a little more mundane:

I'm sitting on a large comfy chair with my feet up.  A notebook is on my lap and I am writing.  There is a fire roaring in the fireplace to my left and the high-definition tv is on to my front-right.  I sit and write in my living room about the evening. 

The evening hosted the lively companionship of friends.  A lavish dinner was prepared and shared with everyone and then we talked about our travels and ideas, projects.

Earlier that afternoon, hours before this social gathering, I hosted this week's writing circle.  Eight of us attended and wrote for two hours with some time in between for sharing.

Exercise:  Imagine The Ideal - Imagine an ideal pleasant writing spot for yourself, where you feel comfortable, have privacy, and can establish a supportive routine.   [a variation of Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Beautifully Golden

I need to breathe.  This as I am, writing self, tired and restless.  I don't always want to express on paper or this, this electronic medium that is now-you-see-it-now-you don't in truth.  Delete of a button.  Systems crash.  No back-up - all gone. 

I don't always want to express.  I like to think.  I like to write.  In my head.  It comes out so eloquently, long prose, deeply intelligent - beginning, middle and end.  Comprehensible and meaningful.  How do I remove the distaste of presenting these thoughts out there, out there, out of my control - to be misinterpreted, misunderstood, misused, misappropriated.   I miss the point.

I am myself, integrated within the whole - the writing self today.  Yet, I remain silent.  Silence is beautifully golden.

Exercise:  Journey Writer:  Describe your writing self.  How do you see the part of you who is writing today?  [a variation from Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Brimming Stone

A table made out of a slab of quartz crystal is positioned on a vast bedding of tumbled amethyst rocks.  The chair I sit on is made of lapis lazuli.   There is a huge window in front of me, and a skylight that allows the full sun or full moonlight to shine in.  There is a wall made into a perpetual waterfall and it too is filled with gemstones. 

I have papers made of all kinds, but there is garden of papyrus outside that I can I see.  I make my own paper from it.  The ink is made from pure plant dyes, again from plants found in my garden.  I spend many sacred moments writing in this special place.

When I need to draw in some inspiration, I take a moment to play my harp.  It stands in the corner awaiting my hands to strum its strings.

And when rest from writing is needed momentarily, I lay down on a floating mat, raised above the ground.  It gives me a subtle and gentle rocking movement - safe and secure.  The water is scented with essential oils of my liking and I can heat or cool the water's temperature as I prefer.   

Exercise:  Imagine The Ideal - Imagine an ideal pleasant writing spot for yourself, where you feel comfortable, have privacy, and can establish a supportive routine.   [a variation of Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Searching And Revealing

Pinkish cream, freckled hands on keyboard, recording thoughts and researching.  Spring-freed birds sing in the background, dancing from tree to tree.  I am a calm center writing today.  My eyes are blue, inquisitive, searching and revealing.  White little note papers are my friends, scribbled writings colour them and scatter on my desk.  A light wind enters from the sliding balcony door.  It is cool and comforting - the sun warms and sweetens the moment.

Exercise:  Journey Writer:  Describe your writing self.  How do you see the part of you who is writing today?  [a variation from Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

The Thirsty Garden

A pink hue glows off you, writing self, as you tip tap away at your white keyboard.  One day you will have a new MacBook or something similar but for now you use what you have as industriously as time and energy allows.   

A garden spontaneously erupts all around you, thirsty for your words.  You draw on the well and drop a drip or two into the beautiful funnel.  Too little, you think, why so few words?  Too many will drown them, you reply.  How much is enough?  How much is too much?  When is enough, enough and when is it feeding time?

Exercise:  Journey Writer:  Describe your writing self.  How do you see the part of you who is writing today?  [a variation from Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Travel As Writer

This ideal writing spot comes to me in the form of a journey.  I'd love to travel to the homes and favourite places of great writers, and stay a night or two and simply write and write.  Those writers that have past, and are living on without their corporal bodies.   I feel that these places would carry with  them an extra weight having been seen with the penetrating eyes of the writer and the beautiful love of the poet's soul.

Exercise:  Imagine The Ideal - Imagine an ideal pleasant writing spot for yourself, where you feel comfortable, have privacy, and can establish a supportive routine.   [a variation of Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Journeying

Its late.  1:30 AM or so and I'm wide awake.  My writing self is alert and feels the need to travel to the south of France, NOW!  The blue, the crisp light blue mediterranean lapping against the rocks and shore - seagulls calling.  Colourfully dressed people everywhere.  My writing self looks like a traveller without being tangible.  I suppose it makes sense as this is dreamtime and rest is close on the heels of this sharing.  I will let my writing self journey.

Exercise:  Journey Writer:  Describe your writing self.  How do you see the part of you who is writing today?  [a variation from Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Half & Half

The left side of me looks normal and human, sitting at my desk typing with a cream soft long sleeved shirt on (that has a hood).  My eye is blue and the corner of my mouth intermittedly smiles and frowns.  The right side of me looks like a king, glowing golden with a bright shining crown on his head.  I see a wing behind me.  This is what my writing self looks like today.

Exercise:  Journey Writer:  Describe your writing self.  How do you see the part of you who is writing today?  [a variation from Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Palatial Room

Whimsical:

A crystalline palatial room behind a waterfall, I sit and write actual accounts of the activities of the nature faeries that appear to me.  I watch them and listen, and write.  Sometimes they sit and rest allowing me to paint them.

When its time for me myself to take a rest from writing, I come out from the room, into the brightly sunlit waterfall and let the water soothe me.  Then I go for a gentle swim.  Fruit trees line the banks and I take some fruit from the branches and enjoy a picnic as I rest on the grassy bank.

Exercise:  Imagine The Ideal - Imagine an ideal pleasant writing spot for yourself, where you feel comfortable, have privacy, and can establish a supportive routine.   [a variation of Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

Pink Rose

I have no idea how ideal it would be in actuality, but this came to me in my imagination:

I'm sitting at my writing desk right in front of a large window, pen in hand, poised.  Outside my window I notice I'm situated on a beautiful main street of a small quaint town.  Artists, spiritual people, innovators, actors, writers live along this road or come in from out of town to visit.  I, in the window watch and write what I see. 

A man, a handsome smiling man, regulary spots me in my window writing - and when he does he gets my attention by doing something grandiose or romantic.  Today, he put a pink rose between his teeth and bowed as though he wore a cape.  It made me happy.

Exercise:  Imagine The Ideal - Imagine an ideal pleasant writing spot for yourself, where you feel comfortable, have privacy, and can establish a supportive routine.   [a variation of Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

The Candle

Like a candle, lit yet it flickers not, but remains a steady flame.  I wait for the dance of thought to write with the smoke from the tip of that tongue of fire.  My writer self erect, like the pillar beneath the flame, hoping to sustain long enough to produce warmth and inspiration for others to enjoy.

Exercise:  Journey Writer:  Describe your writing self.  How do you see the part of you who is writing today?  [a variation from Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

The Climb

She sat atop a mountain without discouraging the world to climb but she had no hope that anyone would for she lives high in the clouds far above the sea.  Who would see her up there thinking, who would ever see her there?  Why would anyone climb for something they cannot see?

Exercise:  This Is What She Said - This is a writing prompt: "This is what she said".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 197]

Licorce Beer

Last Sunday, Peter and I decided to make a homebrew.  After purchasing a second copy of Sacred Brews, we agreed on doing a Licorce Ale. 

We bought supplies at a local health food store - focusing on the herbs in jars in the back - then went next door to the grocery store for a couple sacs of organic brown sugar.

Cleaning and preparation went rather quickly - as Peter was cleaning everything of requirement, I set the water to boil in the large pot.  Soon after, I placed the licorce root in the cheese cloth and tied it with string tightly.  When the water was boiled, I put the licorce enclosed in cheese cloth in the water and let that sit for awhile before eventually submerging it fully.

It was a rather easy and easygoing process.  The boiling liquid at first smelled like vegetables, and then it took on a mature sweetness.  It was poured into a large glass jar, and sealed.  The licorce ale we made now sits in the pantry.  It takes, according to the recipe, only a week or so.  I'm guessing it may be there a while longer. 

There is quite a bit of action in the bottle/jar.   Various yeasty formations and sedements are visible.  The bottle is sitting next to a peach wine which is giving off a very nice scent.

I'm hoping its a delicious success.  Regardless, it was a fun experiment that I highly recommend.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write until you have arrived at a place that feels finished.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Mini-Wheats

There is a box of mini-wheats in a CVS Pharmacy bag on the coffee table next to my socked feet.  Peter brought it home last night.  He shared that the woman he dubs "Crazy Lady @Work" gave him the mini-wheats because she thought he needed breakfast.  At the time of the exchange, he said, "But its 4 o'clock in the afternoon!".   As long as they are not invasive, a conscientious co-worker is a good thing (but, you know, there are limits).

I remember eating mini-wheats in my youth.  I believe it was one of my father's favourites.  You had to be careful eating them because if not properly soaked in milk, they could cut or stab the inside of the mouth.  Or that was my experience.  It was fun to play with though.  Playing hide and seek with the frosted side - delaying gratification until the very last moment.

Peter shared also that his uncle taught him to eat them with warm water.  Letting it soak until "cooked" and then draining the water out.

I liked the flavoured milk at the bottom of the bowl after eating a bowlful of mini-wheats.  Of course flavoured by the frosted side of the wheat.  Years later I believe they introduced a chocolate coating.  I can't remember if I have had them.

I don't eat breakfast cereals anymore - if I do its rare and temporary.  Vector cereal caught my fancy for a bit because of the supposed boost in vitamins and minerals.  But I think its made by Kellogg so it makes me suspicious about its nutritional value. 

One of my favourite breakfasts to have is a croissant that has been heated while covered with some butter and peanut butter.  The melted peanut butter just drips off it - its messy but decadent to my mouth.  Hmm.

Dieticians, nutritionists, and health care professionals always say that breakfast is the most important meal of the day.  It is said it sets the course for the day.  You'd think then that the work day and the school day would accomodate this important finding.  Give people more time to have a hearty breakfast and productivity would soar.

Health-wise my newest favourite breakfast has got to be a bowl of fruits with cottage cheese.  Its very enjoyable and healthy. 

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write until you have arrived at a place that feels finished.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Paradise Rock Club

It was a Saturday night in Boston Massachusetts.  Six of us at dinner, finishing the last of a Mexican repast, Joe was calculating the bill - recounting the gathered american money in his hand.  We filed out of the restaurant and decided to walk to the Paradise Rock Club.  It was a fair walk, pleasant evening, not cool - light and airy - freeing.  Our companions chatted to each other about many different subjects, some engrossed them more than others as they deepened their voices.  The lighter fair of thoughts expressed brought laughter and lightened steps instead.  And then we arrived.

The bouncer was genial yet purposeful.  Everyone flashed their IDs and that is when I realized I had forgetten something.  I hadnt thought of bringing my ID, I have no idea why.  This left me in an awkard position - can't really describe how bad I felt for that misstep - but I was soon rescued by a generous walk to the car and return to my place of stay to retrieve that important piece of information.

Once at the Paradise Rock Club, the first act had finished and the main attraction was about to begin.  I was there to see Nouvelle Vague.   They are an eclectic mix of personalities; musicians who turn covers into their own sound and interpretation.  And they put on a great show.  I enjoyed myself quite well. 

The crowd was good and the venue was functional.  A largish hall in front of the stage, two bars behind that and two tiers flanking the hall to produce a congenial atmosphere.    The security guy looked bored, I guess most security guards do.  But everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves.

After a fine encore performance by Nouvelle Vague, it was time to leave Paradise behind and carry on as before.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write until you have arrived at a place that feels finished.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Age Of Wonders II

                It was some time in the day a someday last week, in fog from all the stress, I went downstairs to look through some boxes.  It was just a feeling that struck me so I followed it.  The first box I came upon had a collection of old computer games.  Some were just the boxes, the CDs missing - placed somewhere else.  But there were a couple that were fully intact.

One of my favourite games is Age of Wonders II.  It came out in 2002 and I played it often.  You might say I was slightly addicted to playing it.  The strategic elements were engrossing and the graphics beautiful.  The game mechanics were enthralling and drew me in.  Add to this that I found myself playing with a regular group  of players online with new ones coming everyday.  I eventually joined a ladder on myleague and carried on from there.

Age of Wonders II was looking up at me.  I looked down.  Such a sparkly cover.  I picked it up and looked inside to see if the CD was there.  It was.  I scooped it up and brought it upstairs.

As I was installing the game anew, I searched online to see what was happening with the game if anything anymore.  I found out that they no longer produce the game nor its successor Shadow Magic.  But!  I did find the old forum that still has a number of players I played with active.  It was very strange moment.  Its 2006 and they are still playing.

It was time.  The game loaded, I plunge into play.  Oh my!   I still love it.  So entertaining.  If there is anyone out there reading this flow writing who still has a copy of this game and wants to play, please contact me.  I would love to play multiplayer again.  That would be neat.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write until you have arrived at a place that feels finished.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Impatiens

                I had a unique and special guest arriving in the Light of May.  To honour this guest I wanted to set the stage in every way I could.  Part of this effort was to buy flowers for the garden.  I found a beautiful flat of bright red impatiens at a local garden centre, one annexed to a popular grocery store.  Happily I bought the entire flat of flowers and a couple pots of other species - piled them all in the back of my sportscar and headed home.
                It seized upon me to dig into the dirt immediately and so I did.  What pleasure that brought me!  My hands and arms muscled their way through the compacted dirt in the huge pots aligned like ornamental lions on either side of the stairs to the entryway.  It felt vigourous and strong to plunge into the earth and then delicate and sweet making sure the new guests, the impatiens, felt comfy in their new beds.
               Weeks later the owner came by and knocked on the door.  Mind you, my visitor had come and gone by then (without mention of the impatiens display) and so I open the door.   "I just wanted to thank you very much for planting these flowers in the front here.  It makes me happy to see them," he said.  He looked tender and sincere.  I replied that I was happy to do so and appreciated him telling me.  (I refrained from telling him that they'd been there for some time already).  A few days later, he came by and gave me $10 saying that he had found it on the ground outside.  I smiled and thanked him.
                I sit here, September, and these impatiens are still growing strong.  They bloomed magnificently for months  - spilling over the sides of the giant pots.  I love how their colour matches the door.  It makes me happy.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Left-Over Sparkles

She's quiet and alone with left-over sparkles of sun on her cheeks.  Tear stains are visible only with the invisible eye's gaze.  Her beating heart shines like a sun.  She wonders where hope is.

Exercise:  Journey Writer:  Describe your writing self.  How do you see the part of you who is writing today?  [a variation from Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

The Writing Session Love

    He's sitting beside me, my lover-companion, almost in a meditative state but its just that he is so relaxed and content.  He's sitting there doing his own thing while I am writing.  Its a magical hard-to-explain experience.  I've never been able to do my work while someone is present, but with him, with him I am able to write.  The comfort level and trust is so high and strong that I write and write and write and write even as he is there beside me.   When I feel stuck he looks up before I do, our eyes meet and I automatically know what word to put down on paper to continue the flow of my progress.  When we're done,  I have several draft chapters written and he loves them all.  After he reads them, I see a single tear rolls from his eye, and he tells me he loves me and is proud of me.  And I tell him, I adore him and I appreciate his attentiveness and devotion profoundly.  Then we begin  making dinner together as  we are expecting a company of friends.  They arrive and we eat jovially, as an idea sparks my mind and I excuse myself from the table for a second to jot down the details.  While I am gone, he shares with joy some moments of the writing session earlier, and those things he is most proud of me that day.  I return to the table and there is a beautiful glow.  I am supported.  I am loved.

Exercise:  Imagine The Ideal - Imagine an ideal pleasant writing spot for yourself, where you feel comfortable, have privacy, and can establish a supportive routine.   [a variation of Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

WaterColour Doodle

Notepad rests on top of a huge watercolour pad of paper.  On the top left hand corner of the facing page is a single image I painted this afternoon.

I was looking out the window and there was a face-like image outline I could see in the threads of the yellow curtain.  I sometimes see images, outlines in things.  Today,  I decided to doodle it with watercolours.

Since it was just an outline, it was easy enough to recreate but soon, as I kept playing with it, it morphed into a recognizeable painting of a face.

It looks upon completion, as an Incan chief with its eyes bleeding.  This I found remarkable as the other day, I had been reading about Incan history.  One of the personages I read about was Yahuar Huacac, "He Who Weeps Blood".  He was captured when he was young and when they saw him bleeding tears of blood, they let him go.  He became famous for this and was given that name.  He also became a co-ruler.

When I'm flowing in my artwork, these sort of revelations often occur.  I never know when I begin what will happen - but soon it shows itself.  I need to trust more.  And be happy doing so.

There was a certain feeling while painting that I get when these things happen.  Its a sort of abandonment and freedom.  A freedom from care and release.  I appreciate the moments as it is so needed now.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Wasaga Beach

Sleepy, resting in a camp-style fold out chair; I've just arrived at Wasaga Beach.  It seems most of Ontario is here today.  I have not seen this many people here before.  It may be due to the new parking lots they have added.  Wasaga Beach is north of Toronto and rests on Georgian Bay.  The drive to Wasaga Beach from where I now live in Loretto, Ontario is about an hour or so.

There is no one style of people on the beach today.  All shapes and sizes, families, singles, couples, and groups of friends.  The sand is very hot, soft and its namesake coloured.

I'm wearing a pink bikini under a yellow cotton shirt and white shorts.  Eventually I will disrobe to swim and take in more Vitamin D.

I closed my eyes to listen to the screams of play from children, laughter, chattering conversation, the mix of languages, the splash of waves made by departing waders.  And to not be forgotten a seagull loudly honks by.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write until you have arrived at a place that feels finished.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

The Pond

My feet are dipped in the warm water touched by a summer sun.  Swimming past, already seen, is a bass fish.  There are several in this pond.  A pond of average size and one inviting to swimming humans, fish, and a few turtles.  Also accompanying me are many dragonflies.  A new sort too, I've not seen before are everywhere, dive bombing the surface of the water.  There is a surf baord (though I'm not exactly sure why) nestled on the shoreline next to an aluminum boat.  I'm sitting on a wooden dock writing as the wind blows my hair to and fro, and creates sunlit ripples that dance with the eye's gaze.  There are bullrushes lining the east side of the pond, while different kinds of foliage line the rest until one reaches where I am sitting, the north side - and here you will find a small dock and a clearing where you can wade into the water.

It is rather beautiful and peaceful.  Only the sounds of birds tweetering and once in a while the sound of a woodpecker drilling a hole in a tree.  I haven't swam yet in this pond; not sure exactly why.  I hope to soon.  The sun's heat is certainly supporting the activity.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Lemon Plant

I'm sitting on a tan-rugged floor in front of a potted plant.  I bought it last autumn.  Its still growing nicely.  I've repotted once already, and soon perhaps I will find it a roomier home base.  Right now it grows in a pinkish burgundy plastic container with gold touches on the ridges that encircle it.

Its about 12 inches in height.  The leaves are larger at its height than its base, which makes me wonder that it needs some extra nutrients.  The leaves look healthy and shiny.  Light to average emerald green, the leaves turn downward yet are robust.  There is no sign of buds nor, therefore, fruit yet but thats okay.  I'm glad that it is still growing.

I placed it on the ground in front of my sliding door balcony windows that faces west.

To the touch the leaves feel silken and comforting.

I think it wants to be amongst more of its kind.  Perhaps not a solitary plant at all.  I may rectify this for my lemon plant soon.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write until you have arrived at a place that feels finished.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

My New Art Table

Finally.  Finally I got an art table for my room.  I've been looking for one for so long.  It cost $149.00 at Staples and a friend offered to pay half.  That was nice.  I saw it yesterday but decided to sleep on the idea and return today if indeed I did want it and I did/do.  Its a cherry wood top that has a deep honeyed look.  Not the usually dark cherry wood you usually come across.  Also the rest of the table, the drawer, the sides, and the legs are like old time country milk-washed wood.  This table I will use for writing and art, and this is my first writing exercise on it.  I'm in the NW corner of my room.  I put a light nearby temporarily until I find something better suited.

It feels good to sit here.  I have a chair that is cushioned with a luxurious red pillow.  It was at the computer table, but I'll likely be siting it here most often.  I look at the empty wall right in front of my view.  I'm thinking I need art there.  But art that stimulates a looking glass effect.  That helps me, inspires to go beyond the humdrum thoughts. 

I hear noise in the background as I think of writing how this is again a solitary moment - there is a ladybug flying around the light fixture.  I'll refrain from sharing what happens to ladybugs who fly around too long  that light fixture. 

On the floor next to me is a healthy green-leaved lemon plant.  It sits in front of the sliding windows that walk out onto the balcony.  My draperies are pink and yellow.

The saleslady at Staples said that the table was undamaged when I asked about why the box looked mangled and obviously taped back up exaggeratively.  There was damage.  I've decided to ignore it and move on.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Tim Hortons Iced Cappuccino

Unlike many of my fellow citizens, I've never been a frequenter of Tim Hortons.  Tim Hortons is a coffee and donut shop that offers things like sandwiches and soups as well.  It is well known in Canada.  It is so prevalent that there is a Tim Hortons every few blocks or so.

I find some of their products acidic.  Burns the tongue.  Perhaps it is the sugar they use, I'm not exactly sure.  And I'm not a coffee drinker, so I cannot speak to their coffee offering.  But I do know that Canadians everywhere regularly gather at Tim Hortons.

The irony is that I am free-flow writing about Tim Hortons because beside me is a Iced Cappuccino.  And yes, I have stated I don't drink coffee, and I really don't.  But for some reason, the exception has been Iced Cappuccinos from Tim Hortons.  I get them ever so often, even in the winter.  I'm not exactly sure what the allure is.  I've tried similar drinks at other places and none have had me seek them out for more.  It could be simply the fact that it is easily available anywhere I may be.

I've always liked ice.  I like how it feels in my mouth and the crunching sound in my inner ears.  The taste of the coffee is not too strong - it is more sweet and milky than a harsh bitter coffee taste.  There is also a sense that it gets me writing somehow, if I need a boost to move forward with it. 

Tim Hortons Iced Cappuccino is probably not a economical choice not because its expensive - its just a few bucks - but because the drink is mostly tiny bits of ice.   For now, I like it just the same.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

A Trail of Rainbows

I remember the smell of fresh baked bread straight from the oven.  Pulled gently apart, steam rising with its scent of deep health, yeast and a joyful abundant earth.

I remember the taste of Trident peppermint gum.  Chewed vigourously and with style, each clench of teeth upon teeth releases another spurt of peppermint freshness until, no more but a whisper remains.

I remember the sound of a cool breeze in an open window bringing with it the laughter of trees and chatterings of water.

I remember the sight of a butterfly flapping its wings in grace, its detachment and delight leaving a trail of pretty rainbow light.

I remember the touch of a teddy bear, white and soft and always there for a youth in momentary despair.

Exercise:  Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses.   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]

I remember the smell of fresh baked bread straight from the oven.  Pulled gently apart, steam rising with its scent of deep health, yeast and a joyful abundant earth.

I remember the taste of Trident peppermint gum.  Chewed vigourously and with style, each clench of teeth upon teeth releases another spurt of peppermint freshness until, no more but a whisper remains.

I remember the sound of a cool breeze in an open window bringing with it the laughter of trees and chatterings of water.

I remember the sight of a butterfly flapping its wings in grace, its detachment and delight leaving a trail of pretty rainbow light.

I remember the touch of a teddy bear, white and soft and always there for a youth in momentary despair.

Exercise:  Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses.   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]

Natural Grace

I'm imagining my ideal writing location right now.  I'm sitting on a teak lounge chair, that rests on a soft, fine, white sand.  I'm at a beach somewhere, where the water is a teal/turquoise/deep blue/green.  There are a couple large conch shells in view scattered around me.  No seagulls, no insects pestering.  I have a cup/glass holder to the side of me with a luscious drink that quenches my thirst with each sip and makes me smile.  I rest my writing on my lap with my legs bent slightly.  I hear soft music playing in the background somewhere.  The sound of the ocean overruns it in intervals when the tide comes in.  There is a light breeze but not too much that would press my hair into my face.  And I write and write without distraction.  Everything mentioned above supports the flow of what I'm writing and does not lead me away into fantasy.  But instead accentuates it with a lovely grace and support.

Exercise:  Imagine The Ideal - Imagine an ideal pleasant writing spot for yourself, where you feel comfortable, have privacy, and can establish a supportive routine.   [a variation of Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]

St. Peter's Ale

I'm drinking St. Peter's Ale.  A beer I haven't tried before.  It is graced within a light green glass flask.   Its imprint embossed into the glass itself. 

It is made from organically grown barley and hops.  Its water from a deep water source with a history of doing so for 700 years.  The St. Peter Brewery Company is located in Suffolk United Kingdom.

It tastes a bit like medicine.  I think partially the reason this is relates to the illusion brought on by the shape of the glass itself.  Many cough syrups come in this sort of bottle shape.  Also there is a rich wholesomeness that one does not often find in alcoholized beverages.  Once used to the initial medicinal quality, it is pleasant enough to partake of without desire to not take another swig.

I find the bottle unique enough to keep actually.  And I am not one to collect things by any means.  The bottle shape is in fact a faithful copy of one made in 1770 for a Mr. Thomas Gerrard of Gibbstown, Pennsylvania.

The symbol for St. Peter's Ale is a crow-like bird with a gold key in its core. 

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

Cool And Crisp

I remember the smell of the cool crisp late morning autumn air.  The scent was of light root beer complete with effervescent bubbles of happiness.  I walked with jubiliant steps grateful to be accompanied with such a beautiful fragrance.

I remember the taste of a large luscious pear.  Sweet and succulently inviting, the juices craving not to be wasted as my mouth dug deep to capture each drop.

I remember the sound of a bustling highway with huge transport trucks rushing past intense intent on its destination.  I,  on the phone with a friend, where he mistook a truck horn sound for a duck.

I remember the sight of big strawberries, cut in half and how the perfect elegant symmetry coincided with the light pink flesh heart shape inside.  The light brown and deep brownish seeds well-placed on the outside like confetti announcing a beautiful celebration.

I remember the touch of my mothers silk scarves that she would wear often in her hair when I was younger.  Silky smooth like her skin thanks to her religious use of Olive of Olay.

Exercise:  Sense Memory - A variation on Write From The Senses.   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 29]

Nothing To Say Today

Hmm, this is not as much fun as I hoped it would be.  Not a self-generating enthusiasm and more a heavy fisted 'make sure you make an entry every day' feel.  Ah well.

Fascinating the Thundersnow they had in New England.  A rare weather phenomenon apparently.  Here in Ontario it has been a bit colder than norm but nothing exaggerated.

My car has a pile of snow upon it that I need to un-pile so that I can go shopping in the next few days.  Hopefully I can get more pumped up to do these activities.  Lately, I've just felt like hibernating without outside interest pushing me forward.

I'm about to watch Alec Baldwin on Saturday Night Live.  I used to enjoy that show in the very late 80's and early 90's when Dana Carvey was on.  Perhaps tonight they will make some effort to be intelligently humourous - ya never know.

This is what she said when she really had nothing to say.

Exercise:  This Is What She Said - This is a writing prompt: "This is what she said".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 197]

Learning

I've learned a lot the last few days.  One is finally understanding on an emotional level what "You deserve better" meant all those times it was directly expressed to me.   I could intellectually comprehend but there was often a void where I would go, "What does that mean?" or "But how does that apply to me? Doesn't everyone deserve what I can give, and what they can give or not give is the way it is?" 
I learned more about detachment and reached a new level.  I learned today that I don't trust myself enough and that I tend to take "inner flight" quite often.  Lack of inner mobility frightens me and on further contemplation, I am beginning to grasp that the reason I tend to flee is because I have a belief that if I care I will get hurt.  Trust leads to foundation and focus and leads to caring which then, to a part of me, means I will get hurt - and seeing that I care a lot all the time and find myself crying a lot as a result, I surmise that if I am solidly in one place for too long much more damage can be exacted.
And yet one of my biggest contentions about my life is that "I don't go anywhere or do anything" or "Nothing happens".  Which is ironic as it seems that I'm never "here" long enough to create a forward momentum in a fundamental way.   Its hard to explain really.   Basically, my life forces me to "stay put" so that I can trust in myself enough to care about myself, others, the world without fear and desire to flee.  And once I stay grounded and trusting enough, I will move forward actually.  Not just the metaphysical, intellectual, spiritual moving forward that I do with great confidence and ability daily.  This is more, the physical life, emotionally fulfilling, actual experience that I wish to bring into a full awareness and positively supporting reality for me.

And I also learned, to my great surprise, that my Self would prefer I go to bed early and wake up early.  I have been resting when I am tired and will stay up at all hours because I find it is more peaceful to do so.  But I also find that I'm very stressed all the time.  I always attributed to other things but maybe I will try this new (but old conventional) way out and see what results.  It will likely be a challenge to rest so early, but I will give it my best attempt.

Exercise:  This Is What She Said - This is a writing prompt: "This is what she said".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 197]

The Eternal Star

We had just left the house, the door locked behind us.  I was sitting in the back seat of the family Ford station wagon on a brisk Christmas Eve, on my way to Midnight Mass. 

I stared out the window as I always did, likely admiring the neighbours' christmas lights and decorations and thinking how calm and peaceful eveything seemed when I looked up into the sky.  I was in completely awestruck.

In a moment that seemed eternal, I tried not to blink as I looked up into the bluish black sky and saw something so beautiful and impossible to my mind even then.  It was a star. A big bright star.  The biggest and brightest star I had ever seen.  But not only that, I recognized the shape of it.  It had a longer ray pointing down than the rest.  It looked exactly like the Christmas star shared and depicted so many times in story books.  I couldn't believe it.  I looked away and looked back.  It was still there and the calm I felt, I can still feel now in my memory. 

I asked if anyone else had seen and they said no.  We arrived at the chapel and went in for the ceremony.  When I came out the night felt so serene, like it often does after Midnight Mass and I took a deep breath.  And then my childlike excitement took over as it was time to go home and see if Santa Claus has arrived.

When I arrived home, I found something strange.  The door that had been locked was already unlocked.  We went in and found that "Santa" had arrived.  But at that moment I realized, and readily stated, that there was no Santa.  I deduced that one of my parents must have come back and left the gifts.  It was sad.

This was the year a magical play-acted story came to an end for me, and one Eternal Star burned even brighter in my heart and mind.

Exercise:  Winter Constellations - This is a writing prompt: "Write about winter constellations".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 197]

The Notebook

A blue covered notebook rests near me awaiting my thoughts.  I have notebooks upon notebooks where I write and write and write, however this particular one I have grown a liking to.  Its made by Mead - their 'Cambridge' brand.  Lined in dark blue upon tinted yellow, the pages give me a sense of support and welcoming.

Right now I use this notebook for catching my thoughts before they disappear into thinner air, soon to be forgotten until the next wave strikes.  Sometimes the same crests tickle me and I recapture the idea, however I think it best to grab hold while you can and write.

I usually write in red pen.  Many reasons for that but suffice it to say its a good thing to do.   I've learned from my reading about journaling that its a good idea to date and time all entries.  I never thought that had much value before, as for me the content should be what is most important - but somehow I have decided its a worthy idea and only takes a few minutes.  I find it humourous how many times I have to check what the time and date actually is - I wonder if thats more because I enjoy being accurate rather than not knowing what time it is.

But there I am in mid-thought, remembering to jot the time.  Reaching for the cellphone or sneaking quickly to the laptop to confirm the data.  Time is just a record.  Its the moments lived, truly lived that matter and are worth writing down - each and every one.

I am grateful for my notebook and for this laptop I transcribe its jotted thoughts with.  My hands, my heart sharing expressing what gives me joy.  Being.

Exercise:  Flow Writing - Pick a tangible object from your surroundings and use it as the opening image in your entry.  Let your mind free-associate from one thought to the next.  Write for a specific period of time.   [Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 24]

The Offering

This is what she said when she took the gun to her head, "I can't take it anymore!".  With her other hand she coaxed the gun down, trembling, trying to breathe. 

"Why doesn't anything get better?  Why?!  No matter what I do, nothing."

She dried her tears and sat quietly.  Thinking, thinking of what she can again do differently.  "Maybe if I do nothing and pretend I'm dead, the world will offer itself to me."

So she sat and stared, blinking.

Exercise:  This Is What She Said - This is a writing prompt: "This is what she said".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 197]

Sunny Patience

The sun rises like the softness of dew. A peachy light upon my eyelids and the smell of lavendar meet me as I wake.  What will this day hold? 

How can one feel lost on such a tiny planet?  The sun always there, moving the same course across the skies, day in day out.  Does the monotony not fit our powerful creative minds and spirit?  Does even that much stability irk us that we much delve into realms of dissatisfaction to prove our point of a stationary life with no lift off?

The earth and the sun, like venus and mars, eternal companions.  And we along for the ride rest our weary heads for sometimes it all spins just too fast.  And sometimes we rail, shaking our fist, for it seems to go too slow. 

Everyday should have the ease of a day at the beach.  That is how we are meant to be.  Relaxed, enjoying, smiling, and creating.  Whatever stands in your way to feeling that, take pause and remember the sun is always there until you get it.

Exercise:  The Sun Is Rising - This is a writing prompt: "The Sun is rising".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 177]

Oh Fire Oh Fire Why Do Spurn Me Whilst You Love Me So?

I like this prompt and I'm not entirely sure why.  There is a sense of joyfulness.  Meeting up with something joyful.  The sight of the sun rising is always a beautiful thing filled with happy potential.  We may not always feel like meeting the challenge everyday but to know that even if we don't the sun still rises anyway is comforting.   I love the sun. 

I started thinking about the sun recently and how it must be sad to be the sun sometimes.  You give and give and give and give and yet no one can get close 'cause they'll be burnt to a crisp.  :D  Its ironic how it is a physicality it nurtures and yet it cannot receive the same physicality unless I suppose you are a gas.

This reminds me of my theory for garbage disposal.  What about flying transport planes over volcanoes and burn up all the junk that way?  Wouldn't that be better than polluting the earth in gigantic landfills?

Exercise:  The Sun Is Rising - This is a writing prompt: "The Sun is rising".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 177]

Dance Like Eels

The sun rising in a course of a meal while birds chirp and dance on branches like eels.

Exercise:  The Sun Is Rising - This is a writing prompt: "The Sun is rising".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 177]

The Gaze

Risen in a blocked view, the sun shone regardless.  Over time the block melted leaving a thin sheet of ice. An amber glow could be seen shining through.  As if from the sun itself, a knight with a bright blue sword appeared cutting through the sheet of ice.  All fell away, save the sun and the gaze.

Exercise:  The Sun Is Rising - This is a writing prompt: "The Sun is rising".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 177]

Liquid Love Tonic

The sun is rising as my blood boils.  Another inexplicable ......... (rant over).  The silken smooth sunlight, liquid that can soothe any frazzled nerves.  I bathe in this now, it fills me completely - liquid golden light. 

Exercise:  The Sun Is Rising - This is a writing prompt: "The Sun is rising".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 177]

Rose & Glistening Blue

    The sun rose, now meeting the glistening blue of water.  Sparkling jewels touching my toes as I dip them in to adorn them.

     The dock is wooden and modest.  I enjoy sitting out here in the calm of early day listening to the birds sing and wind in the trees refrain.   I wonder about many things, I hope, and then pray.  Generally a feeling of well-being pervades as the sun beats down lovingly and kindly meets my thoughts with a confidence and awakening light. 

Exercise:  The Sun Is Rising - This is a writing prompt: "The Sun is rising".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 177]

Crackled

    The earth's shield crackled as its crust received the fiery light.

Exercise:  The Sun Is Rising - This is a writing prompt: "The Sun is rising".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 177]

Thinking

    I'm usually up at 2:30 AM working out ideas, thoughts, concepts.  Scribbling them out in notebooks, consulting Angels,  healing, transforming.  If I'm not doing that, I'm likely reading a book or reading internet sites - searching, exploring new things.

    And sometimes, I just lay quietly and meditate.  Meditation is good.

Exercise:  2:30 AM - This is a writing prompt: "It's What I Do At 2:30 In The Morning When I Can't Sleep".   [A Writer's Book of Days: A Spirited Companion & Lively Muse for The Writing Life by Judy Reeves pg. 181]

Simply Let Go, Move Forward

    My writer self today looks like myself sitting as I am in my chair next to the window.  She looks powerful and kind, and relieved to be unburdened by a false appraisal that she need to slow down.

Exercise:  Journey Writer:  Describe your writing self.  How do you see the part of you who is writing today?  [a variation from Life's Companion by Christina Baldwin pg. 9]