Monday, April 9, 2012
Who made this mess?
My heart is wanting to write. There are words just under the surface. But my mind is clouded and thick with things that need processed like laundry piled in an easy chair. I want to scream "Who made this mess?" but it doesn't really matter. And now my mind knows that it must sharpen up and entertain ideas beneficial to other commitments. So, like a good host expecting company, I gather up the 'stuff' I don't have time to fix and get it out of the way. I hide it in a back room and shut the door understanding that it will accumulate until the job breaks through to another need, another time when I will open the door and say "Who made this mess?" knowing that it doesn't really matter. I will decide then how to deal with the need inside. But that will be another day, another hour. May this day be profitable and blessed.
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I have the luxury of being able to close the door and put off tasks to write. I seem to be more of the inspired type, putting it down in one sitting. I sometimes warn the family if I am really obsessed with a piece and require a long time to finish it.
ReplyDeletei have my world to myself a lot. this morning i got stuck in my personal devotions and spent some time praying and crying over my family. then i needed to seriously process what i had read and i really wanted to put it on paper -prose or poetry- but today's students call my mind into action and i have no choice but to tuck it back into a space where i can't see or hear it or trip myself up. for today, others will own my mindspace. tomorrow or tonight, i can reread. yet the same wonder may or may not exist in the words.
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