Another writing prompt that I decided to finish, this one from July’s Writer’s Group. “I am thinking of…”

I am thinking, in my blank-mindedness, of how hard it is to begin. How hard that first idea, those first few steps into the wilderness to forge the trail can be. Which direction? Toward the mountains? The valley? The meadow? Where do I let my feet take me? Where do I let my pen take me?

How something can be so simple yet so complex is beyond me. There are days when words tumble from my pen onto paper so fast my fingers can’t keep up with my brain. Then there are days when I sit down with a pen and seemingly forget how it works. Forget how to put it to paper. Forget how to create. How to begin…

I’m thinking of all the ideas that fill my files at home. Essays, articles, books. All ideas. Like eggs banked for another time, they wait for life to come to them. Some I return to, others continue to wait—reminding me, mocking me, calling me. Ideas that need to be begun—and then begotten.

And so how is it that one begins? How is it that Julie writes daily and I write monthly, at best? Where does the difference lie? Is it a lack of discipline? Of creativity? Of time? Or is it a lack of courage?

Beginning takes courage. Saying, “This is the path I am going to take. It starts here.” Putting pen to paper, letting the words come even then you don’t like the words. Letting the feelings come even when you don’t like the feelings. Letting your pen bring forth life whether you like the life it brings forth or not. This is risk. This is faith. This is writing.

reflection writing