I used to write weekly. Scratch that. I actually write daily, every morning for the past 3 months straight. One day, I made that commitment to myself and I’m telling you, it’s saving a lot of lives, a lot of embarrassment (for me), and it’s hella enlightening (for me, again). I write about everything from whatever is on my mind, to my dreams, to where I’m at in the present moment — which may be me saying that I don’t want to be writing 3 fucking pages at 6:30 in the morning cause I’m fucking tired. But, I do. I open my book record what time it is in the morning (which is usually, as I said, around 6:30am, because as much as I like being a night owl, I really love waking up with or before the sun).
What’s the reason for all this? Years ago I read “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron, I actually did it twice. For three months, I took myself on weekly artist play dates, declared my greatest dreams and worked through fiercest demons (or Crazymakers, as she calls them) that I’ve allowed to hold me back from fulfilling those dreams. But through doing this, both times, what really stuck with me were the ‘morning pages’. Morning pages are really hard at first because, three pages is a lot when there are times when you really don’t want to be there. It’s a commitment to keep writing from your source, your deepest truest place, not editing not going back to cross the t’s or dot the i’s, it’s not correcting grammar or spelling mistakes, it’s not coming out perfectly or neatly on the page, it’s just coming out. It’s three pages single spaced of what I like to call a morning purge or morning dump, because you just throw up on the page and let it flow. In these past months, it’s become my therapy, self-care session for myself with myself. It’s a place where I can be me, without trying to be anything else, I can also search for me. I can make choices and not have anyone judging me telling me that it’s wrong. I can talk myself off the ledge or push myself off the cliff. I can talk with my ancestors, the universe and the answers flow right through me. I can fall and the pages always catch me. I’m always reminded that whatever we need, we already have, and what better way to put that into motion but to trust myself, question and answer myself, dig deep and dump.
And yeah, it doesn’t have to be perfect. Cause what is perfect, but imperfection seen perfect in the eye of the beholder?