…about as vague as a writer can get…
I scan down the first half of the page and notice a list of short phrases;
most of the “ideas” are actually memories. Was I thinking “memoir” when I typed
this list?
Then I look a little more carefully and am stunned
to realize that there are nine pages in this document!
…nearly three thousand words of short, undeveloped
themes…
What was I thinking?
I know that day I wrote it; it was just two days
before I acted on a major life change. That week had been exceedingly frigid and
the snow was piled up enough to make driving my old Tercel out of the driveway
an impossibility. An acquaintance had kindly stopped by to take me grocery
shopping. I was okay, hunkered in, cozy in an overly-introverted mode. Too
inert to cross country ski out my door. Too sad to move much at all. But I
guess I thought I had ideas.
…or that the ideas would save me, cure me, propel
me, professionalize me, transform my winter cocoon into a wing-bearing endeavor…
As I look at this document now, I see that one page contains
a long list of all the international travels and outdoor adventures I’ve
undertaken. Included in that list are childhood church camps! Perhaps for a sensitive girl raised in an urban setting, a soul who understood trees better than anything else, these childhood respites in
pine covered mountains were big adventurous deals.
“…baby elephant seal…”
“…my grandpa’s initials…”
“…creosote…”
“…bag of onions…”
Another page contains spiritual ideas. And yet
another has philosophical ones, hearkening back to my old doctoral days, I
suppose…when writing was mandatory – for forward motion, for approval, for
credentials. Page four has a book outline that is so foreign I wonder if I have
amnesia or some sort of early-onset memory issue. A later page has whole
paragraphs, apparently composed aboard the ship to Antarctica…although later I
see that I’ve spelled Antarctica incorrectly. The next page is dated about two
years prior to this list’s creation date, and the bulleted list begins with
“almost hijacked at age five” followed by a whole slew of items totally and
completely unrelated to that early airplane experience.
…"brainstorm” that reflects as much the aftermath of
a torrent as it does any rational or heartfelt cohesion…
And then I hear myself giggling, aloud. Recognition as well as relief. What I see as the common thread in these pages is the passion which underlies pretty much every immersed-in-the-moment
experience I’ve ever had in life.
This is a list of “writing ideas” about things
vitally important to me at some point in time. When I think about it this way,
I realize I’ve come across a great gift:
the ability to see what has caused my heart to break open over and over again
– those that were exhausting, those that were exhilarating
Any idea what shape this gift will take for
you? Unfinished art project? Old scribbled drawings? A photograph of someone
you thought you’d forgotten? Your grandmother's neatly folded handkerchief in the bottom of the drawer?
The sticky note crumpled and stained found posthumously? Photocopied passage
from a book? A feather, bone, leaf, rock...
May your heart open wide and vast like an ancient prairie as you await the passion that will - because it has always been there, however forgotten - fall right into it.
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2015 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."
