Surprises on the Page

It was midday, and there were only a few cars in the park. I stepped onto the trail, and soon the path became overgrown. Plants brushed my ankles. My thoughts flitted, jumped. Chiggers, poison ivy, heat cramps. Does the GPS on my phone work out here?

The bridge over the marsh dipped, and dragonflies floated across the water.

As my mind rattled on through these thoughts, my soul-self waited patiently to settle into a quieter state among the trees.

Last week, I spent an afternoon at Moraine View State Park, a shock of trees in the vast Central Illinois prairie, connecting to my soul’s yearning and asking for guidance on the next steps to fulfilling my purpose.

It was a powerful, symbolic experience, helping me connect more deeply to myself.

But as usual, the real magic happened when I started to write about my experience.

Much like moving past the buzz of the gnats to see the ancient emerald forest at my feet, I have to get the purely annoying and tedious thoughts out before my mind can settle into something deeper. Before I’m able to hear my own inner wisdom.

And writing provides the perfect vehicle for that.

Pouring out misdirected, random thoughts on the page, allowing them to ping around aimlessly, lets a deepening enter into your writing, almost unbidden. You often don’t notice it at first, but after you’ve spilled whatever thoughts there are onto the page, before you know it, you almost always reach a new layer of perspective. Insight comes unexpectedly. Tiny surprises unfold on the page like a phone ringing in an empty house.

Where’d that come from? you might wonder.

Surely it doesn’t feel as if it’s from you.  Yet you’re the one sitting there, with the pen, the paper.

As I continued to write that afternoon, more clarity emerged.

I’m longing to deepen that sense of trust and knowing in my own soul, connect to the spirits who help me see, and share it all with others. For those who feel lost, I’m longing to help you find your home, your place in the world. You have this one particular set of life circumstances, perspective, gifts and passions. No one else. And you occupying your place in the world helps fulfill the tapestry of the universe. If you don’t, that place in the night sky, your place, will remain dimmed, forever missing, A corner that’s unable to light the way for others looking to find their own way home too.

And in the end, it was the writing, the pouring out of my thoughts about the experience of being outside, of connecting to my purpose, that helped me see more clearly what some deeper part of me already knew.

My invitation for you today is to spend a bit of time writing out your thoughts, every one of them, as they come into your head.

I have to remember to buy milk.

The dishes are still in the living room.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I’m so very tired.

Whatever they are. One by one. Get them down and don’t strop writing. Stick with it for about 20 to 30 minutes and see what you discover. Ask questions; watch answers emerge.

After about a page and a half or so, see where your writing takes you.

You might be surprised at what appears in front of you.

 

I’d love it if you’d share your thoughts with me. Where did your writing take you today?

 

 

Photo by Jess Watters on Unsplash