incubation

As evident in my recent blog posts, I haven't really been writing for a while.

And I realized, that is okay.

Creativity and inspiration is not something to be forced. I can't squeeze or wring it out of my mind and my heart. I used to call it my "dry spells". But a dear friend said to me, sometimes we go through periods of incubation. I like that. It's a more honest, forgiving perspective, allowing the natural ebb and flow of inspired moments.

Lately, this book of meditations has been giving me much comfort and peace.

Check it out here.

Meanwhile, I am searching for some Zen.

Portland Japanese Garden, Portland, Oregon

dry spell

... not weather-wise. I'm talking about dried-up creative juices. For a long time, I've been feeling these conflicting tugs and pulls from different directions. Academics. Work. Yoga. Photography. Art. Well, it's not that they're mutually exclusive. One just has to take priority over the other at different times. For the past year, it's been Academics. Writing has been focused on research, not journaling. For a while my camera was gathering dust. But these are the choices I've made, and I'm standing by them.

As can be expected, I have not been doing much photography lately, and have been somewhat disappointed in my recent attempts.

Almost instinctively, I picked up my copy of Letters to a Young Poet by Rainier Maria Rilke. I leafed through the dog-eared pages, revisited pages I've marked, words I've underlined. I came back to this:

"To allow every impression and every germ of a feeling to grow to completion wholly in yourself, in the darkness, in the unutterable, unconscious, inaccessible to your own understanding, and to await with deep humility and patience the hour of birth of a new clarity: that alone what living as an artist means: in understanding as in creation.

To be an artist means: not to reckon and count; to ripen like the tree which does not force its sap and stands confident in the storms of Spring without fear lest no Summer might come after. It does come. But it comes only to the patient ones, who are there as if eternity lay in front of them, so unconcernedly still and far. I am learning it daily, learning it through pains to which I am grateful: patience is all!"

It does come.

yoga and writing workshop

For a few weeks now I had been looking for something to do to nurture my creativity, which has taken a backseat to work and academics for quite some time. I had been feeling quite disappointed in my dried-up creative juices. I needed something to take care of ME, but I didn't know what exactly. I knew I didn't have the time to commit to a weekend-long retreat or a vacation. I would just end up feeling guilty and stressing about all the other things I need to be doing, so I knew that wouldn't work. I wanted something that was short but sweet. Something that made me feel like I was going "away", but close enough that I didn't have to drive too far. I wanted an intimate setting with not a lot of people. So I knew what I DIDN'T want.

A couple of weeks ago, I picked up an issue of Natural Awakenings and found an article about an upcoming "Yoga and Writing Workshop". I was intrigued.

It sounded like just what I needed. Four hours long, less than a half hour drive away. Something that integrated body, mind, and spirit. A little yoga, a little meditation and reflection, and writing! I signed up that very same day. It's amazing how God/Spirit/the universe provides.

I was so glad I went! It was a beautiful fall day. The workshop was held in a quiet old building surrounded by trees. I intentionally got there early to take a walk on the grounds. Came across a weathered, wooden bench....pink wildflowers growing amidst a sea of fallen leaves... My feet sinking into the soft earth.

I stretched, breathed, wrote, and listened. I listened to my body, my breath, my thoughts. And I listened to others. We listened to each other. Fifteen strangers in a room, being present in our bodies and minds, writing, and sharing little pieces of ourselves through the written word. We all wrote, wrote, and wrote some more, in a safe space.

I realize how much writing and art enrich my life. I always wish I could do it more. I know I have realigned my priorities for the next few years until I have the letters "Ph.D." after my name. But I have to find ways to receive and take part in small doses of art every now and then. I feel much more balanced because of it.

Here is one of the poems we reflected/meditated on:

The Healing Time

Finally on my way to yes
I bump into
all the places
where I said no
to my life
all the untended wounds
the red and purple scars
those hieroglyphs of pain
carved into my skin, my bones,
those coded messages
that sent me down
the wrong street
again and again
where I find them
the old wounds
the old misdirections
and I lift them
one by one
close to my heart
and I say holy holy

- Pesha Gertler

For more information about writing workshops, click here.