I've entered a new rhythm with Morning Pages. The journaling isn't pretty. But it isn't meant to be. Rambling is encouraged, wandering a must. I needn't even be able to read my scribbles afterward (which is usually the case once I get going.) The exercise is meant for dumping--lists, fears, to-dos, desires, plans, whatever.
The practice has become a powerful moving meditation, one that clears the clutter in my head so that I can more fully enter my story when time comes to sit butt in chair and begin the hard work of writing.
Late Friday afternoon, my inner critic questioned why I hadn't tried Morning Pages sooner. After all, it groused, had I paid attention to the idea when I first learned of it way back when, the practice could have saved me a lot of time and aggravation, especially while pursuing my Vermont College degree. Good question. None of my answers made sense until Saturday morning's yoga class. As Janet led us through sun salutations, she reminded us--as she often does--not to compare ourselves to others, not to be judgemental about what our bodies can and can't do that day. In yoga and in life, she said, "honor where you are."
At that moment, I realized worrying about morning pages, and what might have been or should have been doesn't honor my process.
Where I am now is right for me.
Current read: Brilliance of the Moon, book three of the Tales of the Otori by Lian Hearn.
Quote for the day: Travelers, there is no path, paths are made by walking. Antonio Machado
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