Saturday, September 20, 2008

Prose: Into the center I go...

Into the center I go…careening past supposed-tos, avoiding the have-tos like the plague, and trying to find the void where the dark exists and language doesn’t.

Here there is quiet. Here I find myself like I did in the high country woods all last week. Here I sit and await the muse and see if she deigns to visit with me.

Here there is no time, no images, yet my pen moves across the page and gives me words to use in my own process. Here the darkness envelops me, calms my nervous system and dreams me in and out of the void and my longing always to know.

In sitting with not-knowing as a meditation form, in allowing my mind to not-think, I’m opening myself to larger concepts than what my small everyday mind thinks in. I’m also allowing the larger consciousness that I am a part of, to speak to me in its own terms, in its own images, and see how it lands in my own awareness.

What changes in the translation, I don’t know, glimpsing what I can and then translating it once again to pen and paper.

Somehow the process is more important than what I thought would happen or the ideas I would glean. Somehow I feel blest by the experience rather than the end result. Somehow I know this pathway I have just re-cleared to that deeper, inner part that is comfortable in the void, in the dark, is a healthy was of keeping my writing and my consciousness clear.


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