Thoughts and questions about the longing to be "gotten", and the longing to "get" others.
I believe He sees me. He who died, and rose again to redeem me, sees me.|
So, why do I long to be seen by people "with skin on"?
I long to share conversation, thoughts, beliefs, feelings with another...
| Cameron’s (2002) Artist’s Way is a guide to recovering creativity geared initially toward blocked creatives. She lays out basic daily task of writing Morning Pages which can fill the creative well, or beckon the creative muse.
Chapter one introduces basic tools of recovery including the Morning Pages and weekly Artist Dates (with yourself alone. Like regular physical exercise, they take work. She tells the reader to write long-hand three pages every morning about anything. Then put these pages away, they are not for reading or making anything out of, they are for priming the pump. The chapter ends with a Contract with yourself committing to the work of the course as a gift to yourself.
The next 12 chapters are weekly tasks to renew creativity. Each chapter guides you in recovering your creative self with readings, writing exercises and it ends with several tasks. Cameron does not chide you to accomplish all the tasks, but to choose some. She suggests approaching this as play.
Though this book may be useful as a solo recovering artist, one can also start a group and work through each week together. I found it extremely helpful when I used it a decade ago. Unfortunately, I have not been disciplined, or simply not had the time in recent years for the thirty or more minutes a day it took me to write three pages long-hand for Morning Pages. When I did, it worked to stir up writing creativity.
Cameron, J. (2002) The artist’s way: A spiritual path to higher creativity. (10th anniversary ed.). New York, NY: Tharcher/Putnam. ISBN1585421472
|I dreamt last night:
I had an appointment at 2pm, arrived early. The office was larger than in real life, I wandered around, met people, waiting for my appointment time. I knew some women working in another section of the office, slightly. I realized it was 2:23pm, panicked, I walked to the waiting area just outside the entrance to the rooms. The door was ajar, just a little. I peeked in and he was there for my appointment, but as he led me to the room for session, that door was closed. When he opened it, another therapist was meeting there...
I asked, "could we meet in the courtyard?" "Sure" he replied, then he received a phone call and was chatting on it...I waited, then I went out the door to the courtyard of the building. I walked a few feet, then the courtyard turned into a mall area with many people. A large group was gathered to one side of the mall, and I walked up to them to hear what the leader of the group was saying. The leader thanked everyone for their participation in the event, and then another woman in a business suit walked up and asked if the event was over, "the alarm went off a couple of minutes ago, so we're checking it out." I thought I might have set off the alarm as I entered the courtyard... I walked a little bit away from the crowd, then realized I was lost...
I woke with tears in my eyes, and a heavy sadness in my chest. I'd missed my appointment, and I was lost.
|I was expecting more... the first words in an anonymous review of Verbal Intercourse, a brief acrostic poem complaining about the poet's desire for more.
It is apropos.
It could be the subtitle for a memoir on my relationships. I was expecting more...
Yet, life keeps running ahead of us and the sands of time melt under our feet like the beach under the wash of the sea.
So, we struggle to connect. We struggle to carve out time face-to-face. Then, we struggle to understand each other while we try desperately to be understood.
If only, I could hold my breath long enough to hear yours, dear...
Maybe, if I was listening to your inspiration I'd hear your dreams and feel the connection I long for.