Category: Nature poetry

What to do if your Mind goes Adrift (& you’re a Writer)?

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I climb out of my bed into the heat of the morning, trying to catch all the little creative thoughts flying around like fireflies.

I fumble with my eyes half-closed into the kitchen.

My bare toes love the coolness of the wood floor while I make lunches for my two boys.

I blast the fan in the window, letting the fresh air soothe me.

I think about a story idea that fell into my mind as I fell into my bed late last night. I see the words. I see the images. I see the “arc” of the characters.

I see “how” the sentences may easily flow through my hands and onto the page, but they don’t. Not yet. Sure, I can make the time to physically pause, and write down the sentences. I even put down my cup of tea, but…I cannot get ink to flow through the pen.

There are too many things swirling around in my mind, and so I’ll be the first to admit: it’s gone adrift.

So I ask myself: What is a writer to do when your mind goes astray?

How do you bring the words back to shore?

There’s really only one way:

Let your mind go.

Be one with the drift.

Float with the ideas.

More than likely your writing piece is still in the creative formative stages, and does not want to be penned down.

The words want to be played with in your mind. They want to stay wild.

Yes, I get that, you say, but…I need to write. I promised myself to write at least 1,000 words today. I’ve got to cage those thoughts behind the screen, onto the page.

Sure, but what if you do not force the words today?

What if your productivity actually increases by letting go, and being in the moment with whatever thoughts arise?

Be adrift.

I did, and here I am: playing on the shoreline of a new blog.

Give it a whirl!

Go play with those fireflies of creative ideas!

Copyright 2017 Jessie Zanita

Photo Credit: Issara Willenskomer/Unsplash

The Commute. {Poetry}

swimrainroad

Smudged ink

as wisdom curves into words

as sounds of a violin
play through the radio waves

dissolving
with the drizzling drops of rain
on the roof,

you glance through the fine layers of glass
to see a thousand black dots flying eastward,

crows moving like the commuters
on the Interstate —
all as one, but each
one
as one
within

a microcosm of silence

as each flap of a wing,
every rotation of a tire,
every quick thought that rolls through your mind
like lightning — a streak of genius — sudden,

and then gone,

as darkness
settles once more
over the wet farmlands
and the deep taproots of oak seedlings
are finally soaked
with rain,

much like my fingers stained
by this smudge
of

black ink.

Copyright 2017  ©   Jessie Zanita Wright

Photo Credit: Comfreak/Pixabay

Summertime in the City. {Poetry}

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She ran to the edge of the city,
stopped, &

turned back,

wandering along the sidewalks,
under the tapestries of loving
and living

where people,
flesh and blood
moved
with feet,
not in shiny boxes turned by wheels,

where smiles
shared were returned
easily
along with the change
from buying a local bunch of beets,

where laughter
echoed along
the creek,
flowing through the city’s center,

where children played in the fountain,
splashing purple polka dots
of water
on their mother’s blue dress,

where old men sat
reading a paper,
sipping a coffee,
talking politics,
and maybe even about the way
their old lovers
kissed them good-bye,

where she leaned back
on the cobblestones,
barefeet,
at the edge of the creek,
head back,
eyes closed,
sunlight darting through,
shape shifting the dots into bright images
of the light of stars,
of the universe,
of the beauty of loving
and living
in this city.

Copyright 2016 © Jesi Zanita

The Art of Water.

 

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“Droplets of water
carry the sea green into the blue waves,
the paintbrush guides
the bleeding of two colors
into one
wild
ocean of love.” ~ Jes Wright

The Art of Water isn’t overwhelming or exhausting, but fluid in its transformation of dry pigments into a seascape.

The water’s clarity becomes a transfusion of mindfulness, as our hand guides the creation while our jumble of thoughts grow still.

In a way, watercolor is one of the more healing forms of art.

The nature of movement—in the way the water droplets roll over the paper—is gentle. It holds the connection between the core of nature and ourselves, as we can easily fall into the grace of water rolling colors into colors like miniature waves.

We fall into the Flow, getting submerged in the meditative way that a wet paintbrush can easily “erase” layers of golds and blues that ended up being too vivid for the seascape.

We slow down into the now of water as the medium, even as much as we think it’s the colors that matter the most, but it’s not. The blank spaces left in between the ultramarine blues & leaf green create a balance between what we see & what we think we see, as can be the same in our relationships.

The shine of emptiness adds and subtracts from our shadowy sides.

So do we look for the things that are left unsaid—the blank spaces—as flecks of gold? As a potential for creating more beautiful art in the daily waters of our world? Or do we take the remaining spaces, let the beads of water roll over them, blending the crimson with the Prussian blues? Each of us will come to that decision with the practice of art (& of relationships).

And, this blog, yes, this one has morphed into a rambling, but that is the nature of watercolor, beads of color bleed into other beads of pink or sea green until the paper becomes the art of water.

 

Copyright 2016 © Jes Wright

painting by jes.