#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

The Brook Running

“To make something well is to give yourself to it, to seek wholeness, to follow spirit. To learn to make something well can take your whole life. It’s worth it.”

~ Ursula K. Le Guin, Steering the Craft: A Twenty-First-Century Guide to Sailing the Sea of Story

Some days, like today, I only enter my walk after I’ve walked awhile. I stopped at all the places I stop to look at the water: three spots on the river, and then my brook. And kept walking. Because I am very busy and I’m juggling many projects and company coming this weekend, and early Thanksgiving to prepare for Sunday with lots of company. All fun. But I have to remind myself not to be grocery shopping in my head instead of listening to the rush of the fresh brook and the birds singing. All the dried weeds and berries wearing a light coat of ice. Mud, wanting to suck the sneakers off my feet. Be here now, I say. I do not cut my walk short even though I consider it. And why not? What I know is that all of it will get done, or it’s not that important. Step by step. And, it’s a busy day, but I get done what I get done, including the grocery shopping. A very decent chunk of time goes into revising my poem for tomorrow’s workshop. I picked it, thinking it needed some minor tweaks; it has already been workshopped twice. Instead, I get lost in it, break it, fix it, break it. I go as far as I can go. And I must spend time preparing for my poetry reading tomorrow night in Boston, must choose my poems and make sense of what I want to present. This, too, takes much more time than I expected, and I’m not sure. Who can help me with this? I make the call. She answers. She has time to listen and advise. I lay out my plan, she asks her questions. She helps me choose the order, make some teaks. All calm and encouraging, cheerful and thoughtful, she’s the perfect one to ask, she always is. We rehearse so well with each other. She knows everything I need to hear.

Charles River Morning