Agenda

Agenda:

without idea or sudden inspiration, that’s how it sometimes happens, arriving to my desk with intent to write but not yet with words that are ready to reach a theme nor fill a page. I have a willingness to wait, patience, coffee to sip. Writing often has it’s own agenda, or perhaps it’s more true that words and inspiration do — ideas flourish on their own and arrive with a subtle impact to my mind, so seamless and with ease that I claim them as my inspiration.

really though, it all belongs to mystery.

and it’s important, for me at least, to not make any assertions on how mystery should unfold, keeping my opinion to a preference, no demands as to when words will make their appearance, or even to ask for their arrival. Again, inspiration has it’s own agenda and it’s intimately involved with mystery. My interference only seems to complicate the matter as now I introduce an agenda of effort and will, not an intention, but a forceful ego declaration that mystery meet me on my terms.

mystery is never forced.

writing, at it’s purest point, is always effortless.

so my only role is to be without agenda, or to match mine with one greater than my own, allowing myself to belong to the process of words and their pause, having faith that ideas gather in silence and arrive to me only when inspiration is ready…