Thursday, May 29, 2014

Seeds of creativity: on knitting, planting and growing an idea

 
photo credit

I've been writing in my black and white composition book all week long, scratching words on paper to tuck away for later. It's the first time since starting this blog that I've written so much that I'm keeping to myself. 

It's a new experience for me, outside of my years of journaling.

I feel as though I'm tucked away, knitting a scarf whose length is yet to be determined. I have a style in mind, held loosely with the acceptance it may turn out entirely different. Or, I may never finish it.

I'm even hesitant to say this, but because I'm not attached to a certain outcome at this point, I'll make the leap of faith: I think I may have begun the process of writing a book. 

Is it normal to be uncertain about something like this? It tastes like peace to me, but also adventure, the unpredictability of what I'm embarking on.  I've wanted it for so long yet been unwilling to force it. I still am.

I always wondered if I would just know when it came to me, or if I would need someone else to point out the obvious. Would it be like uncovering a buried treasure, or would it be like growing a baby in my womb?

It's felt like both, this week. I'm uncovering a treasure that's been here for awhile, and something is growing in the womb of creativity. It took a dear friend to point it out to me, with a simple heartfelt comment. The seed was planted, and it may be too early to tell if it will make it past germination, but I'm embracing it nonetheless. Where it goes from here, what it becomes or doesn't become, is not for me to say. Only that I see it there, in the ground, and yes, I will water it. I will tend it, as long as it lives.

I have to say, I wasn't expecting to write about this seed.  I wasn't looking for it. It's not something entirely original, and I worry some, that I'm borrowing from someone else's style and content. Did this come from within me, or is it merely remnants of inspiration gleaned from works I've read recently that settled deep in my soul? Does it matter, ultimately, as long as it is my voice, not an imitation of theirs? What is original, but the voice with which we each speak our common stories, when nothing is ever new under his canopy of sky and earth? 

I must strive to let my voice be true.

Intertwined with my writing this week, I've been finishing a moving memoir, Refuge, by Terry Tempest Williams. I have savored this book and as it comes to a close, it seems more like confirmation than imitation that I have been reading it at the same time this seed is planted for a book of my own. She includes a poem in her final chapters by Wendell Berry, The peace of wild things. As I read it, the page might as well have been lit by a star. This, right here, is the essence of my seed, and he says it more eloquently in twelve lines than I ever could in an entire book. 

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron
feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

I'll be honest, I'm fighting the urge to back out of everything I've just written here, to leave it entirely open-ended and non committal, so I won't disappoint you or myself. I am afraid of coming up short. But I choose, today, not to let that stop me. If this is my act of courage for the day, it is enough. And if this seed comes up short, in the end, it will not be a loss, merely a journey I embraced, a seed carried in my heart for however long it was given me.

It is enough.

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Linking up with Kelli and Jennifer


14 comments:

  1. Hello, sweet Amber! You were so gracious to stop by my site and leave a wonderful comment. Right now, I'm not able to respond to your comment. My site is down for some reason. :( I had to pop in and visit you and thank you. I love your site. And I pray the Lord births all the wonderful things growing within you. Be blessed!

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    1. Aw, Lynn, your words here make me smile! Thank you, too, for stopping in at my place - it was certainly nice to be at yours (and I hope it's up by now). Your prayer is beautiful and much appreciated, and I say an amen, and blessings back at you :-)

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  2. I am in a similar place, Amber. Not wanting to force it, wondering when, how, I will know. I read a children's book this week called, Mrs. Maple's Seeds, about someone who collects and cares for the seeds that don't "take" in the spring so they will be ready for next year's planting. There's much surrender in planting and I'm learning my way so slowing into it. I was thinking the other day how patient and coaxing the ground must be. Thank you for being brave in sharing and may you find gentleness and discovery in the process!

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    1. I like this, Kelly - "slowing into it." It's the way, for so many things, and yet slowing into anything doesn't seem to come naturally to most of us. I'm thankful we can learn from each other as we're learning our way - it's a comfort. Thank you for sharing a bit of where you are and for encouraging me along the way.

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  3. This is wonderful. You have such a way of making art with words. You mesmerize me. You will do well, friend.

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    1. Beautiful friend and fellow artist... thank you. Just thank you.

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  4. *clapping hands wildly* Yes! Yes! Yes! Water the seed see where it goes. It might be a flowering tree or a quick lived flower but it will grow into what it is meant to be. Love you.

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    1. I smiled big when I read this, Karmen, just picturing you. I am truly grateful for you and for these precious nuggets of encouragement you offer along the way. You have helped me put my seed in the ground. Love you, too.

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  5. I hear your heart--it's a gentle, willing-to-be-used-and-guided heart. May you find direction, inspiration, wisdom, and peace.
    blessings to you, Amber

    I've come via #Tell His Story link up.

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    1. Constance, thank you, for hearing my heart, for seeing. I appreciate this. It's nice to 'see' you hear again. Blessings to you.

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  6. Bless you, sweet friend! I am so excited for you and trust beauty will come from this, whatever shape it takes. I believe this will bear something that brings him much glory and births new joy in your soul. I'm dreaming with you! Love you.

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    1. I'm so grateful to have you dreaming with me! You are a gift. xoxo

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  7. the sweetest of blessings on you as you continue to 'uncover this treasure.' enjoy every step of the journey, Amber ...

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    1. Linda, I feel the sweetness of your words, and thank you. It's easy, in the beginning, to think of enjoying every step of a journey... but I know these are words I'll need to take to my heart again and again as the journey ebbs and flows. Bless you.

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