Like my old classmate, Jesika, I also hate and refuse to run but spend part of every day walking. I take one of the same two paths every day and sometimes find that a poem carried in the wind has become tangled in my hair. Sometimes I find a rock with part of an essay etched into its shape. More often than not, the slowly shifting landscape mirrors a slowly shifting understanding working its way through my spirit. And just as a wall of rose buds finally erupt with their powerful fragrance and precious tiny petals, a blooming will arise in me as well.
Walking and being outside clears out the clutter in my mind better than anything.
As an aside, your mention of creating a type of “office hours” in your comments filled me with such a longing. Though I do not currently have any questions for your office hours, I still fondly remember the hours I spent in your office and classrooms working on writing and life and frequently wish I could travel back in time just to be there again.
Laci, I remember those conversations fondly as well. Ask a question any time. And what an amazing line in this comment: "I ... sometimes find that a poem carried in the wind has become tangled in my hair."
I do not run, because I hate it, and I'm able to make the excuse that if I run my uterus might fall out. However, I do walk A LOT. And, instinctively, I just talk to everyone in my life while I'm walking. Then I pretend to be those people and talk back to myself. I have hours upon hours of conversations with people who exist in real life, but definitely are NOT on this walk with me.
I've been told that the most distinctive feature of my writing is my voice. And I tend to include conversation in my writing with regularity. My walk conversations are more therapy than writing practice (in my mind). But I think I'm always practicing voice.
Isn't all writing practice therapy? I remember well the power of your voice, perhaps second only to the naturalness and capacity of your images. What you describe about walking is eerily familiar to me. My biggest difference is only that many times the hours and hours of conversation are with purely fictional creations and sometimes they are with unreal versions of the people who do exist in my life. Thanks for sharing your comment, Jesika.
Like my old classmate, Jesika, I also hate and refuse to run but spend part of every day walking. I take one of the same two paths every day and sometimes find that a poem carried in the wind has become tangled in my hair. Sometimes I find a rock with part of an essay etched into its shape. More often than not, the slowly shifting landscape mirrors a slowly shifting understanding working its way through my spirit. And just as a wall of rose buds finally erupt with their powerful fragrance and precious tiny petals, a blooming will arise in me as well.
Walking and being outside clears out the clutter in my mind better than anything.
As an aside, your mention of creating a type of “office hours” in your comments filled me with such a longing. Though I do not currently have any questions for your office hours, I still fondly remember the hours I spent in your office and classrooms working on writing and life and frequently wish I could travel back in time just to be there again.
Laci, I remember those conversations fondly as well. Ask a question any time. And what an amazing line in this comment: "I ... sometimes find that a poem carried in the wind has become tangled in my hair."
I do not run, because I hate it, and I'm able to make the excuse that if I run my uterus might fall out. However, I do walk A LOT. And, instinctively, I just talk to everyone in my life while I'm walking. Then I pretend to be those people and talk back to myself. I have hours upon hours of conversations with people who exist in real life, but definitely are NOT on this walk with me.
I've been told that the most distinctive feature of my writing is my voice. And I tend to include conversation in my writing with regularity. My walk conversations are more therapy than writing practice (in my mind). But I think I'm always practicing voice.
Isn't all writing practice therapy? I remember well the power of your voice, perhaps second only to the naturalness and capacity of your images. What you describe about walking is eerily familiar to me. My biggest difference is only that many times the hours and hours of conversation are with purely fictional creations and sometimes they are with unreal versions of the people who do exist in my life. Thanks for sharing your comment, Jesika.