pressure

A few days ago, I started reading a book called Writing Down the Bones. It's about ...writing, less about the rules of do and don't, but about writing freely from within yourself. The author feels she learned how to do this through the Zen religion, which I don't agree with, but meditation of the rights things and the practice and discipline required to sit and calm yourself to that point is a neat quality to apply to writing. As far as I've read, I understand it to be that you pretty much let yourself write crap. Don't expect to write classics and beauty in every line, because then you will disappoint and discourage yourself. Just write.

In my first exercise of this practice of 'just writing,' without expectations, this is what i wrote:

Heavy drops fall hard 

against my window.

It sounds like marbles,

exploding from their bag,

colliding with linoleum.

A familiar sound.

The same in every state.

It brings refreshing and

growth. A cleansing torrent.

The lightning ignites my

room for seconds, leaving

me lonely with

only echoing thunder

for company.

Companions.

The sound is soothing

and the thirst of the

ground quenched.

Pour, rain.

Pouring rain.

I was surprised and satisfied.

i'm listening to the abba greatest hits album. Dancing Queen.

much love