Well hello,
I have been thinking and reading about writing this past month, about this space on Substack, about writing to you.
And then this comment called to me from Summer Brennan during her Essay Camp:
“It's easy but not very productive to be the author of perfect, imaginary things.”
I recognised that this is where I get stuck, in the perfectionist thinking zone, rather than trusting the simple act of showing up for the words. During Summer Brennan’s 5 day Essay Camp we were challenged to write 5 Things each day. Number 1 on the page and then all the words for the first topic in mind, moving onto Number 2 and the next thread of thought. Finally we were encouraged to glean from these drafts to create a completed piece.
This challenge helped me to tap back into the joy of writing, the task of mining my heart, soul and mind and being surprised by the gems found. One theme that unsurprisingly threaded through all of my 5 Things Days of Essay Camp was connection. This is always my desire, my hope, my buzz. In allowing myself to write freely I found glimmers of connection to myself, truths finally heard.
Of course the point of this space is to share some of these words. In the sharing I hope to connect with you, because I know how the words of others have brought me comfort and encouragement. I want these paragraphs to be worth your time, thoughtful and polished. But I also want to be authentic, after all that’s where the connection happens. I hope to offer some neat, polished pieces, and perhaps there will be letters, practices and invitations, in the end it will all be from me, showing up imperfectly. And today, I have a poem for you.
Writing is one of my Soul Spaces, a torch that illuminates thoughts and feelings previously unnoticed. This reminded me of this poem I wrote a few years back.
The Attic
If my words built a home I'd invite you in Offer a cautious coffee Unsure how to begin Lists litter the kitchen Journals line the lounge Years of seeking order Sheets of prayers on the ground Would you like a slice of cake? Compassion shared between souls. Words dished and offer comfort Through our stories told My hands dusty from the attic I’d apologise for the mess Boxes, albums, something brewing Plump cushions for a rest In the quiet I climb up To work, sort, think, fight Pull a line of clarity From a tangle of fairy lights I see storms and sun Through the skylights in the roof Watch the weather, open a box Rummage for a truth. I blow dust off treasure Give a polish and shine Peace and presence here A glimpse of soul aligns If my words build a home It’s a messy sanctuary You’re very welcome here In this space words built for me.
I wonder how writing feels for you?
Or what else helps you to find Soul Space?
And what gets in the way of connecting with yourself?
I’d love to hear in the comments how this resonates with you. And I hope that you can find some Soul Space this week, whatever that looks like in your life.
With love,
Debbie
I love this poem Debbie!