Roadside Chats (16) 10/9/15
The tui’s are nesting. There’s a gap in the bush opposite Deep Song. Bursts of song emerge from within. Yesterday I watched a tui… soar… soar… higher… ever higher… then swoop… swoop… swoop.
Swooping & swooping
Writing absorbs me. There are days I feel I’m doing ok. There are days I feel; ‘I can’t do this… It’s too big… I simply don’t have the ability.’ Mostly I’m ok.
Deep Song is such a beautiful place to write. I love it. It sits solitary on the edge… well, actually over the edge of the civilised world. Writing the book will take 18 to 24 months. I hunker down for the long haul.
Most mornings I write. In the afternoons I work around the house and section. Later I go walking in the wilderness areas which surround Deep Song. In the evenings I read, mostly about writers and writing:
‘I don’t think writers should be too civilised, that they should be too much of the cities
(which is what the word civilisation means).
I think they must, of necessity,
Live in the crucial but commonly overlooked transition zone
That lies between human habitat and the wildness of the world,
The place where wild plants exchange genome With their more domesticated cousins.’
Stephen Harrod Buhner; Ensouling Language; On the Art of Nonfiction and the Writers Life; Pg xi,
I’ve never lived as a writer before. To be precise; I’ve never lived writing before. Sure; this is my second book; but the first didn’t seem like a book. Over four years I wrote a series of poems. They helped me work through the process I was in. Later I scooped them in a net and called it Alchemical Psalms.
This is different. There’s a big picture. It’s more intentional. I’m to write a book of meditations. The meditations are based on a series of sayings given on the edge of sleep. The sayings have been given by the Self. The Self is a unique spark of Divine life. It’s the essence of who I am. It’s also everything there is.
Writing the meditations changes me. Each saying affects me in unpredictable ways. At present I’m being pushed in the direction of analysis. I spend a lot of time thinking. I need to explain what the sayings mean.
Perhaps all this analysis contributed to the way I ended my relationship with Elle. I understood I couldn’t write the book, and at the same time, give Elle the sort of relationship she wants (and deserves). I decided for the sake of the book I’d be better on my own. I know I made the right decision. But I made it alone… & I caused pain.
The sharp sword is the kindest
So they say
The task of writing seems enormous. I’ve completed 30 meditations… Except they’re not complete… At best, they’re a first draft. I know I’ll come back and change them… perhaps many times. There are around 370 more to write; plus the other sections of the book.
The sayings are jigsaw pieces. Each is wiser than I. As I write they talk to me. They also talk to each other… Which changes the jigsaw picture… Which I don’t yet see… Except I know it’s a face… An icon… An access way into something essentially unknowable… I feel inadequate… I write on.
The Self attempts to assists me. It offers sayings to guide and inspire. I keep a list on my writing desk. ‘It’s an original revelation… but oh the cost.’ ‘The Self is the Centre of the Story.’ ‘Check what the meaning is, and then put it in your truth.’ ‘If you tear the top of it off, you’ll break its golden heart.’ ‘It’s the big mind behind the little mind.’ ‘A Divine spark to speak on Earth.’ ‘You begin the fight against tyranny.’
Head and heart the wind it blows
The fragrance of the golden rose
Before the dawn its perfume sweet
Doth brush your eyes and kiss your feet
Fireside Greetings – Kevin