The quest for poetry

It’s important for me not to turn the computer on first thing, before breakfast. Otherwise I get sucked into email and catching up online Scrabble games. Morning slips away. Thursday I missed writing before going into the office, and again yesterday before heading to Toronto. I really do miss it, especially since the profound stillness I experienced a week ago. Poetry arose effortlessly from that space, and I’m anxious to return.

Danny had to get up and sign into work from his laptop this morning. I lay in bed a few minutes longer, then took the notebook downstairs and cleared a space near him at the kitchen table. After oatmeal I poured tea and started writing. It’s a hard discipline to do those pages outside my own space, but always worthwhile.

My mind wouldn’t settle down. Stillness and coherence stayed far away. Once again the pages filled with random threads. I’m tempted to say useless, but know better than that. Chaos and order are inseparable. Peace, when it comes, feels so sublime because of the journey involved. You can never strain or force it to happen. You simply keep plodding, knowing that in fullness of time it will offer itself.