I really did try to write every day in the River of Stones project, but I did not succeed. First of all, getting up at 5:30 a.m. everyday turned out to be more of a committment than I could keep consistently. Eighteen days this month, though, I sat at my table-desk with a journal and pen and wrote, describing ordinary objects in my life after looking at them in new ways and with full attention. That was a joy. I know I am looking at things more attentively in general after this project, and I plan to continue to write more in this way, as I once did, back when I actually wrote some short fiction.
When a river comes to an end it can be seamless, running smoothly into a larger river or even the sea. That's how I'd like this month's River of Every-other-Day Stones to be for me. I don't want it to end in a log-jam or a landslide that stagnates the water and overflows onto an unsuspecting cornfield, that smells with algae and pesticides. No, I'm hoping it will flow, slowly and quietly to the next bend, where if I can keep my eyes and ears and nose open I might see something new or something old in a new way.
3 comments:
You are Kim. Flow. What was it Heraclitus said about not being able to step twice in the same river? And then another one I like is "don't push the river."
Likewise, I'm sure you will go with your own flow just fine, Kim. I was on the River of Stones, too, but not writing, just being attentive for some moment during the day to something I noticed. Yesterday it was pink sky over white snow.
I am discussing wordlessness, sort of, in my own blog today, and also need you to vote on something. Sort of.
Now you are visualizing the church of my choice.
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