2 posts tagged “time”

Today was one of those days when I didn’t feel well--inside or out.

Great Firewall of China

Yesterday, after arriving home and while removing groceries from the car I my head on the garage door while walking onto the garage.  It hadn’t lifted all the way and for some strange reason I didn’t see it.  That strange reason was that I was in a hurry.

I’m always in a hurry.  As a wife, and mother to 3, time is in short supply for me.
Add to that that I’m a published author, painter and psychotherapist—well let’s just say, “It gets crazy.”

I woke up this morning to a dull headache, despite the two 8 hr Tylenol I took.  That was probably due to having stayed up—past midnight—to watch the movie, Onegin, based on Pushkin’s book, Evgenii Onegin.  

All this took place after working for hours on my computer.  As a writer I’m always writing—that is when I’m not picking up children, helping with homework, counseling them on peer issues—and then there’s cooking, washing clothes—you name it I’m doing it.  And let’s not forget I still have my book that I’m working hard along with my publisher to publicized and market.

It’s a lot.

I was tired when sitting down to write this blog despite having slept until 2pm.

My husband was glad that he can provide a life wherein I can do it.

I still don’t feel I’ve done enough.

There’s so much to do.

I had no ideas on what to write.

They headache is still with me.

Oh, and let me add, I’m observing Ramadan.

And then I thought of this prayer—for accepting our humanity.

I had read it three nights ago when assisting my 9th grader with their religion assignment.  

My heart warmed while re-typing it.  

I’ve listed it below.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Prayer for Accepting Our Humanity

Big Buddha in Ancient Temple

I am a person like no one else in
 the world.

I am the people I have met.
I am the mistakes I have made
   and the wisdom I have gained
I am the lessons I have learned
  and the good ones I have given.
I am the good times in my life
   and the bad ones too.
I am the emotions I have felt
  And the thoughts I have
     thought.
   
God I am the life I have lived.
Although it’s not a perfect one,
understand that I’m doing the best
      I can
      With what you have given me.
Because all that I have to work
     with…is me.
      
                     (Tom Moore
                     Dreams Alive, p. 24
                     and
                     The Catholic Faith Handbook
                     For Youth, p. 52)
 

Young Novice Praying in front of of Laying Buddha

The hardest thing about being a writer is making good use of your time.
Time is a writer’s most precious commodity, after imagination—and maybe even before.
For it is in the conservation and consolidation creating an abundance of time, that our imaginations percolate.  

I would imagine this is the way it is for all artists.  Yet for writers there is the added practicality of not only getting the words out and on paper, but the time it takes to write/type them, and then order, arrange and rearrange them.  Following that there is the required dormancy or period of simmering--like with cooking soup having been brought to a boil, and the making of which cannot be rushed.

Poet, Marie Ponsot, a wife and mother now in her eighties, suggests 7 minutes is all a writer needs to place their stamp upon the day. Seven minutes. A wife and mother myself, Ponsot’s words are music to my ears.

Time.

Seven minutes.

Consistency.

Why is it that I’m always looking for the big clumps of time to donate to my writing?

It makes me feel better to say I have worked 3, 4 or 5 hours this day on a certain piece of writing.  That comes from having read article of writers discussing and disseminating their processes of crafting a story wherein they talk of having written up to 18 hours a day at some points.  Perhaps they did.

But that’s not me—at least not now.  

Then there is the question of whether the amount of time one puts into their writing in each sitting is directly equivalent to the quality of the writing created?

Perhaps.

A more overriding concern is—how best to apply one’s time to one’s writing if the goal is to achieve fresh, vibrant and imaginative prose and dialogue that keeps the reader engaged unto the last syllable? What is the worth?

Quality.

I’ve always revered old people, particularly the ones who delved into an art form during their youth or early midlife and brought it to fruition through the decades they have lived--six, seven, eight, even nine for some—and while attending the routine affairs of life like raising children, holding down a nine-to-five job, caring for elderly parents—living life.

There’s something about the time they’ve given, the years, hours and days, they’ve hung in there—committing themselves to not only the development of their artistic skills, but their presence in the flow of life—from which all writing comes.

Life like, writing is not easy.  It flows one day after the next, like the words of a sentence that go on to form paragraphs, chapters and eventually a short story and/or a book.

I here wisdom in Ponsot’s choice of seven minutes--not ten or five—seven.  

Seven in Tarot is the sign of change.

There are also seven days in the week—the time in which God is said to have created the Earth.

This day.

Seven minutes.

Perhaps, one day, a book.