A hothouse orchid
is ignorant to the plight
of the wildflower
I’m back! It’s been a while, but the must has returned and I am writing again. Deadlines be damned! Every time I have to write an assignment or bits of my dissertation I sit at my table in front of the window and I can see into some of the flats across the road. Watching the families come in and out, and now putting up their Christmas trees, reminded me that I live alone. It’s hard not to feel a bit left out sometimes!
So I’ve been thinking a lot recently about inspiration for creativity – I’ve written a bit about it here too. I am incredibly self-conscious in everything I do, and constantly second guess myself. Good for some things, not for others. Being creative requires a certain amount of flow – it has to be natural, sometimes spontaneous, to be really good and that can be difficult if you’re worried about being wrong/silly. So today I finally had a bit of a day off, and got home from the shops, broke out the notebook, and wrote this based on my observations and experiences in the last hour:
rain darkens the sky
bruised purple, night closes in
I head for shelter
I really, really enjoy reflecting on something as mundane as popping out to the shops and hoping to get back before the rain starts – I’m happy with that little haiku.
I kept the notebook out and wrote a silly wee sentence because I was just in the mood for writing, and realised that I had written it in exactly 17 syllables, without trying. I fear it may be time to stop second guessing myself.
Damn. I just ran out of wine, but it’s raining outside. Dilemma. Hmm.
the search for the muse
can lead to unknown places
or bring you back home
you remain silent,
so longed-for answers must wait
Just about every word of this post has at least a double meaning. Inspiration has finally struck. I generally don’t like to refer to an anonymous “you” in anything I write, but in this case I think it’s appropriate. “You” know who “you” are.