Wrestling with rest


When you are concussed,
they say you should rest.

Sleep, yes —
but not just that.
Rest your brain,
so it can recover
from the impact
of collision
inside your skull.

No watching TV
No computers
No bright lights
So, basically, no screens
No physical activity
No critical thinking
No reading

I stare intently,
but the computer screen
I shouldn’t be peering at
still shows the same words.

Well, what on earth am I
supposed to do then?

I know, I know.


After another day of work that entails staring at a bright computer screen all day, writing, reading, and thinking critically, I sit down and finish the last couple chapters of my book.

Now, I will rest.

I open my laptop and bring up a blank, bright white Word document on the screen. I try to think of what I want to write, what I have to say, but nothing comes to me.

I sit in silence, eyes closed. And then, a thought emerges: Peace, be still.

Background noises come to my mind’s forefront. I hear the rain splatter on the roof. The vehicles in the intersection hum, squeal, and clank. They are not the only travelers on the road. Water droplets have taken individual journeys and now collect together in puddles, filling the potholes and crevices in the road. They rest together for a moment, until they are disturbed and displaced by a set of rubber tires — another vehicle in a hurry to get somewhere other than there.


Turmoil —
Our worlds are filled
to the brim with it all,
making it difficult
to extract yourself,
to withdraw,
to slow down,

to rest,
to simply be still.

How writer’s block and an old poem resulted in thoughts on trust

I’ll be honest here: I was having a brain fart. Or a writer’s block. Or something.

So, I put on my music and considered writing a poem instead. But when opening Word, I glimpsed a poem I wrote on December 20, 2016. I opened “The musical river” and read it. Reading that spawned another idea, which led me to my blog and prompted me to write the following words: “I’m still not quite sure how I want to get a point across. So for now, I have another exercise.”

Well, let me just take it from there, because my writer’s block went away.

If you would, go to iTunes or Spotify or YouTube and pick your favorite song to listen to. And I mean, a song that really, really gets you — every single time you listen to it. (If you’re at a loss for a song, here’s one from The Piano Guys.)

Now, lose yourself… in the music, the moment…


The musical river

One musical note
doesn’t seem like much —
as a single drop of water
doesn’t amount to much.

Perhaps this note is a B flat
or a C sharp —
and perhaps this drop of water
falls from the faucet
or drops from the sky.

On its own,
that one musical note
seems lonely and without context —
and the drop of water
seems small and insignificant.

But when that one tone
is followed by other individual tones —
and when that drop of water
is joined by more beads of water —

together they define a new creation.

The musical notes
support each other,
lead each other,
pushing forward with a sense
of purpose and perseverance —
as the drops of water
join together to become
a single entity
that flows with elegant determination,
until, at last,

the end of a new masterpiece.


I’ve been thinking a lot about trust recently. In fact, I’ve been thinking about trust for the past couple of months. And when I thought of trust, my thoughts turned to trust falls. I’m sure you all know what a trust fall is, but just in case:

Trust is scary. That moment you choose to let yourself fall is a moment when you place complete control into the hands of someone else. You trust that person to ignore surrounding distractions and catch you, support you.

So, these thoughts were lingering in my mind, when I turned on my music and read this poem again. That’s when the following thoughts passed through my mind: Each musical note does a trust fall into the next one. Without the next note to catch the one before it, the music ceases to be.

The musical notes in your favorite song rely on each other to create the final outcome. Without that trust, their existence and ultimate purpose would be undetermined and meaningless.

I’ll let you ruminate on that thought for a bit.

Star Wars, a novel idea and anagrams

I’m pretty excited, people. Not just because Christmas is coming, or because the new Star Wars movie releases in a matter of weeks (although that is, of course, extremely exciting… there are so many theories about who Rey is related to, and some think Jyn from Rogue One could be her mom… hmmm… maybe we’ll find out… sorry, geekiness over… for now).

Back to the original reason for my excitement. I have an idea for a novel that I actually really love. I mean, I’ve dabbled in various plot ideas before, yet have never really committed to one particular story. But now? I’ve been consistently writing, researching and pondering about my plot and the characters. I want to know more about the characters I’m meeting, where they’re going and what they’re doing… but I’m the one who’s creating them. The suspense is killing me. (Does that make me the orchestrator of my own demise?)

Interestingly enough, the idea stemmed from my actual job. I cover a specific area of technology, constantly reading, writing, editing and researching technological content. I find it interesting… and apparently so did my subconscious. One day, my protagonist just showed up, running for her life. Let me tell you, that was intriguing.

I have more plot than that, don’t worry. But I don’t really want to reveal too much yet. Partly because I still don’t know where exactly the story is going, and partly because I would be way too intimidated. But I’m excited about it. Things keep popping up, and I think, “Wow, that would work so well with the plot.” Or, “So that’s how this could happen.” 

Also, the plot sometimes takes a turn into the world of SciFi. I’ve never envisioned myself writing SciFi. I don’t have anything against it — you need only look at the first paragraph of this post to recognize that. But I never thought it would emerge in my writing. And while what I have so far is not full-fledged SciFi or anything, it does have a sprinkling of it.

But that’s all I’m saying about it at this point. Maybe I’ll eventually post snippets of it here… we’ll see. But for now, I’ll give you another tidbit of my writing. I was reading poetry by Anne Bradstreet yesterday, in which she created some anagrams — where you rearrange letters in words to create different words. This is what her work inspired:

 Finer hens jingle.

I know, I know. Riveting. I bet you can’t wait for a story about fine hens jingling, right?