Polar dipping

My writing voice is rusty, very rusty.  It’s been a long time since I’ve maintained my writing practice and I feel the effects of it tangibly in my daily life. When I’m not writing, a dull depression creeps through my waking life (and in dreamtime). The flow is dammed. 

Dammed...

I’ve wanted to write a million pieces using the river as my metaphor.  She's a dynamic teacher - each time I sit with her sharing some new simple, practical, and undeniable truth.  The nature of my writing practice being one.  I’ve never been the fastest learner.  Most times the message catches up with me long after it’s been spoken.  I only hope to integrate this lesson in my own time, and I trust my great teacher will stick it out with me until I do.

I'm sure whatever I write now will be imperfect.  Already it lacks a smoothness and flavor I can’t pinpoint (too much cheese? ;), and won’t be able to until I practice more in the kitchen.  Maybe not what I'd like to serve, but I’m not writing for that reason…

On the first of the year, at home, I did what we call the Polar dip – I jumped into the freezing cold river.  When I got up the nerve I put on my suit, walked down to the river (making sure to walk faster than my mind), jumped in, then jumped out faster than I jumped in. And for a moment, the iciness of the water brought me warmth. I felt wide-awake. My breath deepened and all the stale air at the bottom of my lungs quickly made way for fresh new valley air (sense the sarcasm). It felt good!

When the endorphins were still running through my body I told myself, “I’m gonna do this everyday!”

Ahahaha!!!

I didn’t. 

Buuuut…I did do it a couple other times after that.

And every time I did it, it felt good.

And I had the same afterthought, every time.

Which led my impulses to do it again the next time.

So I’m not home anymore, and I have to find other ways to keep the endorphins, or freshness, or “good vibes”, creative juices, life force, or whatever-you-want-to-call-it. Those. I have to find ways to keep those flowing.  Like…my writing practice.

Just do it.

Every year at the end of the summer, the rivers at home turn green as the water stagnates and grows thick algae.  I recently discovered that it’s possible to cure and eat these algae so rich in nutrients.  This is to say that as much as we dislike stagnation, there is always a reason to the season.  A necessary cycle that brings its own benediction, its own style of blessing.  Destruction is never bad.  It’s always at the same time an invitation for something new. Something useful.

Right before everything goes dormant for the Fall and Winter seasons, when the heat of the summer has everything thirsting for new life, there is a period of uneasiness and agitation that seeps through the thick, hot air.  We're left waiting, watching out for that impulse in the air to change, to shift, that will replenish the spirit and land.  A “dull depression” seeps in from the knowing that the sky can never be forced to do what it does naturally in its own time.  We can try to force this exchange with our technologies, but nature knows when its being manipulated and usually doesn’t react well.  If and when the rain comes – when the earth, listening to its own impulses, gives back to itself in a free dance of ecstatic undulation – it experiences genuine nourishment. So the water sits in stagnation until the sky inspires – in-spires: breathes life back into – it.  And one day, amidst the sweeping, cooking, reading, smudging the house, internet browsing, twiddling my thumbs, then smudging the house one more time, I look out the bay window from my favorite daydreaming spot and notice rain clouds hovering over the Sierras.  And soon enough…

The water rises. Flow speeds up.

And if it feels right, maybe the sky will do it again.

And hopefully again after that.

Until the water flows clear. The hills turn their Winter shades of green.  The air breathes. And the depression lifts. 

And from this place I sit down with my laptop to write and share something.  From my own natural cycles, I was compelled.  Inspired.  And even though it may not be great,  and even though it may not come often, it feels good and perfect for now.  Most of us know how a good rain in these drought years are enough to raise the spirits.  If I try to force, change, and edit myself, creating will never feel good to me, and I will absolutely never do it. But I’ll always thirst for it.

So I take Her heed and I follow my flow,  and I look to the Sky for inspiration as He smiles down to Earth. 

“I’m gonna do this everyday!”

ha ;)

Love,

Julia