Waking Up Before Sunrise to Write – Can I do it???

Reading this wonderful post, I laughed and recognised:

http://www.julietallardjohnson.com/blog/

These words at the end hover around me……

“Write first thing, before sunrise if necessary. Carve out that time in the early hours and let every thing else be after your writing –-”

I try to carve it out in the day.  Snatches of time where I can write.  Now that I am committed to the Wheel of Initiation, my writing obligations have doubled.  I owe both my thesis and the stories of the West my time and energy.  This amongst everything else that needs my time and energy.   There are plenty of very good reasons why I don’t have enough time to write.  They are valid and true and real.  And if I allow them to persuade me to put off my work for another day or more opportune time, well, for a split second I am vindicated.  And after that just plain old hollow with a gnawing feeling in my chest that something is missing.  I have sat with that feeling for years, putting things off for another day.  And that sort of scares me.  That so much time so easily slips away.    Because for better or worse, writing matters, or rather, honouring the Creative in whatever way you do it, matters.  And actually, funny this, when you get down to it, when you get started, it’s no big deal.   Wow.  I let years slip past me for no big deal?  Yup!  And no big deal there either… because another manifestation of resistance is to get all caught up in how much time you’ve wasted and what’s the point now it’s too late etc etc etc etc ad infinitum.

Still.  It is hard to find the time……

Lately, my son has been waking me at dawn everyday.  Around 4.30am, he cries softly and I wake up to give him some milk, and we both fall back to sleep.  This time at the point of daybreak has become very precious.  Sometimes, instead of slipping back into sleep, I have listened to the dawn chorus (one of the few times you ever hear a symphony of birds in Central London).  I have slid out of bed and looked out the back window at the colours of the dawn.  I have chanted Om Ah Hum Vajra Guru Padme Sidhi Hum under my breath as my son feeds.  I have felt the infinity of the moment of dawn and realised that dawn is always breaking somewhere as the planet revolves.  I have felt a connection to all those who rise at dawn to meditate.  And I wonder if I can wake up a little more, and use this spaciousness to write in… even if only initially for a little time.  Maybe half an hour to start.  Even ten minutes, then back to sleep till the alarm goes off at 6.45.

This feels like a big deal, and yet, my desire to write (even write badly) my way out of the West and out of my Thesis. is bigger than my desire for an extra half hour of sleep.  This is a new thing.

So….  I take the step and say I will try.  Perhaps trying is not good enough and doing is better, but I’m being gentle on my sweet little self.

Just for this week.   Just for the morning that is coming up.  I am giving this space to the West, and to the Thesis.  They need it, the quietness, the solitude.  No blogging at this time.

I will blog in the day, in those snatched times.  About how it’s going, if it’s happening, how it happens.  Because this kind of public, organic writing is a cool way to reflect and summarise.  And get unblocked too.  Blogging for me right now takes the pressure off the other writing I am doing.  In the years that have passed, I have asked too much of various pieces of work… asked them to bear too much weight.  So they have become stuck under the burden.  I am grateful to this medium for providing that relief.  And I also acknowledge that those other labours require more privacy and space.  I will try to provide it.  I will try to be awake before the dawn.  I hope that however long this pre-dawn writing time lasts, I will be able to mark the end of the space by responding to my son waking, as I do everyday, and falling back asleep with him for that final hour, full of the love and energy of the Creative.

I wish this!

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The Spiral aka ‘Keep Getting Up’

My son learnt how to stand by himself yesterday.  Today he kept practicing.  Standing, grinning, falling down, getting up again, grinning some more.  This is his work and he lives it because in his world that I am delighted to witness, the false separation of work from the rest of life doesn’t exist.  He keeps standing up regardless of how many times he falls down.  He keeps standing up because he falls down a lot!  So it is.     And it is lovely! I find that it harder to get back up, return to writing.  This life story asked of me by the West of the Wheel; my PHD thesis.  Watching my son, I am reminded that no matter how many times I fall down – don’t write, get distracted, get caught up in a dark cloud – I can always get up.  So I do.  However unsteady on my feet.  Write a little or a lot.  Get.the words out; hold the judgement.

Walking home from school today through the pocket-sized woods, my daughter noticed a beautiful snail shell. Pale green with hints of yellow, it was unlike any snail shell I’ve seen before. Examining it closely, we saw the perfectly formed spiral that was at its heart. The spiral reminds us in perfect symbolism of the continual return; the constant revelation of the next turn.  Engaging its lesson, I renew my commitment to return to my work and let that work become part of a life I love.  When I lose my bearings, and I will, the spiral helps me to find the way back in.  Keep standing up.  My children constantly offer me chances to wake up (usually between 3am and 5am….ha ha!).  Too often, I don’t get it.  But when I do, I’m the luckiest woman alive.  5am birdsong is the best there is.  The sleep that follows, sandwiched between them, the sweetest.

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Sleep Walking

This Jagged Hole

Edged with shadows

Unknowing, Night waking

Pulls on a leather jacket,

Sleep walking

Threatening reprisals, violent and repercussive

If they try to stop her

If they don’t let her leave

You will regret it

She says

Led back to bed

Slumbering memory empty, though still vibrating

With a secret message

To keep waking up

Setting Intentions Part 2

Walking in the city

I hear Our Mother, deep mystery

Anyway.

Vibrating beneath the tarmac

And in the cracks

Of pocket sized woods

The rhythms of 2000 years of human habitation, the river flowing through it.

Appealing to a Crow

One morning, Early Autumn (I am drowning)

Though still listening

Walking by, in Springtime

He appears again, Crow Man against the Grey

Magpie flies past

While Swallow dances on a sweatshirt

Sweet Andorinha!

I may not remember the loving embrace of community built on respect

But I know it, deep in my bones

This knowing has called forever,

Set on the edges of Kalk Bay winter,

Slipping in and out of Alberton false awakenings,

I was scared, but held my breath

Letting go into darkness

Anyway.

And when I woke up

Morning light reminded me that I was…

Still Alive

Infused with this power

Unafraid and willing

To keep Moving

Steady Running

Sometimes Pausing

Always heading to the Source

Sure that in the balance of this light and the darkness that loves it,

I wake up

And become

A shining light

In the World