This morning is a cracker. I know it before I open the curtains, for I can hear no rain, no wind, but only the sound of happy birds calling for breakfast.
I sit here and think about this blog, about my writing, my need to write. Looking at something, a view, a morning, an encounter, is not enough for me, because I can hear the voice in everything, one that asks to be remembered. It’s not enough to say ‘it’s a beautiful morning.’ There has to be more than that. Is it a warm one, a Saturday, my child’s first birthday? Is it busy or quiet? Do I have something to come that excites and delights me, or am I just a morning person?
All these and more affect how I look upon what I see. And the person next to me, next to me in the same moment of morning, might say it’s about as beautiful as cold rice pudding, for we all look out from our own perspective, our own context in the life we live.
Some folk look for flaws, some folk look for beauty. I just look.
Start a blog, Lisa said, as if it was a really simple thing, the simplest. Lisa is my publisher at Two Roads/Hodder. She also said I should upgrade my mobile from one purchased at a street market in Africa 3 years ago, with just a few knobs and an On/Off switch, to one fashioned in the 30th century with a thousand applications, including Tetris (whatever that is) and a camera with screen rotation which I can’t turn off. I have taken many pictures already of things and people tumbling like beach balls, including some mint wrappers inside my jacket pocket, a shot that looked quite artsy once I stopped rotating and my eyeballs settled down.
I used to re-charge my old mobile once a week. Now it’s a daily thing, and not just for the mobile. If I am not actually writing my blog, importing (!!!???) photos, once they have stilled, from my mobile, I am sifting through my thoughts on life, love and what’s for supper. Preparing my mind; pulling at the sinews of it, encouraging blood flow, breathing in the morning.
Initially I resisted, squeaked and screamed and whined and moaned.
I can’t do this! I wailed. I am a techno-phobe, an island girl, no roundabouts, no traffic lights, remember??
That was one of my voices.
The rest all yelled ‘Shut up, make coffee and get over yourself!
In the face of such encouragement, I had to listen.
Now it comes, more or less, naturally, and what I have learned, in this new process, is that I can change, even though I struggle with it as much as anyone else does at first.
It’s the thought of it that scunners us. There is comfort and predictability in staying the same. We think we still move forward, but we don’t. We circle.
The benefits of personal stretching far outweigh the disadvantages. In fact, I am not sure there are any disadvantages, for, in the light of this new view, it’s not only my mornings that are different, nor, indeed my afternoons or evenings. I find I think in a different way. I am more able to face whatever comes next, because I have already done it, and can do it again. The unknown is no longer frightening, not because it won’t be at some point – I am sure it will – but because I have proved to myself that my mind is not stuck, that my old way of doing things is not all I am capable of, and there is a new beauty in that.
My advice – recognise your circle and step out of it. Oh, and please remind me of these wise words when I need to hear them again.