writing past dark

Writing toward the light


Lotus blossom in the Fountain of the Four Apostles, San Juan Capistrano Mission
(I took this picture on Easter eve.)

My house is bathed in warmth of glowing candles on this wooly gray morning. The teakettle's on, and I'm settling into my writing chair, and –let me be honest here–I'm feeling a bit uneasy. I'm working my way through a dark patch, and hoo boy, I find myself craving the light of your companionship.

Will you come sit with me awhile? You can have the chair by the window, the one that's closest to the garden. My flowers are soggy, stems bowed low by the rain. But their faces are bright, now that they've been scrubbed by rainwater. And if you peer deep into the shroud of mist, you'll see a flock of goldfinches, lifting their wings toward sunlight.  Let's follow them…see where they lead us.

Friday Five: Quotes of the week

1. Gardens are a form of autobiography.  ~Sydney Eddison

2. Everything changes once we identify with the witness to the story, instead of the actor in it. ~Ram Dass

3. People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle. ~Thich Nhat Hanh

4. At any given moment, you have the power to say: This is not how the story is going to end. ~Anonymous

5. And now the page beckons.
Thin as the layer of silver that makes the mirror reflect, it urges, Set down here what you saw, and you will understand it as never before.
And so will all the world.  ~Bonnie Friedman, WRITING PAST DARK