“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.”
The Outer Room
What helps is a large window where I can glance out at large trees dotting an expanse of wide blue sky. I travel out the window and fly through the trees in my imagination toward the unknown blue horizon. I don’t do much writing by hand and with a laptop computer I take myself outside to soak up Mama Nature’s vibes. My writing space is filled with all the things which lead me into a contemplative mood. It’s not so much the room I’m in, but what I do with the room I’m in. If it’s mid-sized to large, airy and windows abound, all the better. But it could be a little box lacking all that gives me comfort (as far as aesthetics are concerned) like windows, rose-pinks and pastels. Candles, quiet music, aromatic scent in the air, the sound of water from a miniature fountain, or new age, classical, or jazz music lend their gifts to this process of entering the trance-like state where I merge with the energies of creation. Preparing to write is like this for me.
“You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.”
The Inner Room
I write inside myself. Before my hands ever touch the keyboard the text has been written across my heart. I do not know the words I will write but through some unknown unconscious process I will have spent a long time in communion with the emotions behind the subject, or a specific theme that will create the words on the page. When I am one with that stillness within, I ask my heart quietly what is has to say. It is not unlike yielding to the pull of sexual passion, or a holy moment. Writing is like this for me.
I am drawn into what my friend, Cherry, calls a kind of “writing tunnel.” I imagine this is not unlike the tunnel that those who experience NDE’s, (near death experiences) pass through when death brushes by them, except I don’t think it’s that intense. I have not disciplined myself enough to stay here so long. It is very intense. But the lines and imagery are vivid and attractive. I visit this space doing luxurious moments of creativity, but only for a short time. Like sex, (and perhaps, like death), writing is holy. The outer room becomes insignificant as I move through inner chambers of my spirit. It is like this for me.
Whatever the medium, creative expression is life-saving, or, at the very least, carries great healing potential. I am the vessel through which greater universal energies emerge into space on a page in this material realm. I am created in the image and likeness of my highest consciousness. It goes on creating and so I express, thankful for the outlet to mending, to release, to wholeness.
© 2018. Egyirba High. All Rights Reserved.
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