Looking for Inspiration, Finding Simplicitity

Frederico and Ginger Rose                                           Catherine Al-Meten

This morning, long before sunrise, I woke to find my two cats up and ready to face the day. Long before I was ready, I found myself taking care of the simple tasks that get life started around here. Water bowl filled with fresh water, kibble filling up white space in dishes, and window open so Homeland Security (what I call my two cats), can keep an eye on the river. After making myself a cup of tea, I returned to my writing perch (a lapdesk in my bedroom where I can look out on the river), and began writing my morning pages. 

For anyone reading this who doesn't know what I mean by morning pages, I refer to a practice I began over 20 years ago. When Julia Cameron's book, the Artist's Way came out in the mid-90s, I got it, and learned about morning pages-the simple practice of starting each day by writing 3 pages. Having been unsuccessful in keeping a regular journal or diary before that time, I wondered if I could do it. The guidelines were simple. Simply write. Write anything, but write and fill up 3 pages. I picked a basic spiral notebook. It has 70 pages, and when I write on front and back, that is 140 pages. About every month, I open a new spiral notebook, and begin again. At the start of the school year, I get a huge supply of spiral notebooks when school supplies go on sale. I hand out spiral notebooks to counseling clients and to people who come to my dream workshops. Anyway, you get the picture. 

For me, the morning pages have become part of my daily writing and spiritual discipline.  What do I write in my morning pages? What would you find? Records and chats about dreams. Prayers and  poetry. Lists of things to do or things needed, and check lists with items checked off (yes, I go back periodically and check off what has been done or completed). List of plans and outline for ideas and projects. Drawings, sketches, and  doodles. Sometimes the pages are incomplete. Sometimes there are more than three pages. You would find, upon close inspection, the pages were not morning pages at all but were written in the evening or middle-of-the-night pages. On a rare occasion, days will be missed, however this doesn't happen too often. 

Morning pages have become a habit--a good habit for me. They require that I pick up my pen and notebook, and start writing. From that point on, the writing begins to flow. Sometimes the flow is in short sputters, a few words at a time, but soon, the critic who lives in my mind, quiets down, and I simply write. 

This morning, before the sun had come up and before I had even thought about writing, I began to observe the simplicity of life. Today, I woke with a dream and a number of thoughts in my mind. In the space between sleeping and waking, thoughts about a friend and her grandchildren started flowing through my mind. Pretty soon I was trying to count how many grandchildren she has. I made it to 20, and then remembered another son who had a child. Also on my mind this morning was my own granddaughter and my daughter. And I thought of other writers. Thoughts of what made their lives similar or different from my own. How two writers in particular seemed to have mastered the art of dedicating themselves to whatever book it was they were in the middle of writing. 

And then the thought came to mind, advice given to writers and artists and other children by their mothers everywhere--don't compare yourself to others. And so I came back into my body, and observed who I was and where I was, and what my life was. Quite simply, it is a beautiful life. I sat in the dark morning hours watching the lights on a ship. The lights looked like a constellation of bright stars in the shape of a whale, hanging over the river. I heard the early calls of the ducks and geese upon the water, a few yards from where I sat. Beyond that, nothing much stirred. My neighbor's light was on, I noticed as I made tea. Picking up my notebook, I began writing my morning pages, and just as the thought came (that critic again) "Maybe you'll never write another poem. Maybe the well has run dry." I reached for my pen, put pen to paper and wrote. 

Now Julia Cameron says never to share what is in your morning pages, however, just this once, I am sharing a portion with you. As this column is about the writer's life, this passage fits perfectly into what the process is like for me.

"Just when I think --always a big problem and we create big problems in our own minds--there's nothing more, no more poetry, once again I find, the well is not dry. The words are ready to flow when I get out of the way and act as a writer. Writers write.  So maybe my problem, if there is one, is that I'm more than a writer."

And so it is. We are all more than one role or another that we are devoted to. We are inspired by the lives we live, and by our willingness to be present to how we are living. For me, devotion comes from a call to express myself to reach others who might need inspiration. Connecting is a form of sacramental living for me. Connecting through my writing, my art, my counseling, and especially through my relationships and service to others, is driven by a strong spiritual need to find meaning in life and to support others as they do the same.

For a writer to fill the well of ideas, inspiration, and focus, it is necessary to be open and receptive to the flow of life, in even the most simple acts, in the smallest observations. The annoying nip of a kitten that is a way of saying "I love you", the rampant storms of the mind that occasionally wake us up to a flood of ideas, fears, or epiphanies. The raging storm, that stills and centers us. The quiet calm and sunlight that reminds us that change is inevitable. The constant outpouring of beauty against the horrifying reminders that all is not well at some places, sometimes, for all of us. Right now, being still in this moment, a kitten curled up quietly beside me and the clouds moving across the morning sky, I look into the golden eyes of my cat and see that "all is well for now". 

We've moved, once again, from darkness of night to light of day, as we accept the invitation to be grateful for this day. As we pray for those who need our prayers, and as we watch and listen for the signals and signs of what we are called to next. For now, in this one moment, Presence finds me. We are one in the Light of this moment.