Coffee Novelist

A river of material runs through us. When we share our work and ideas, we are replenished.

                                                                                                           Rick Rubin, from The Creative Act

Writing as a river

I almost didn’t start this post. I almost didn’t because I did not see where, when, or even if, it would end. Which makes sense now because a river keeps flowing, and from the shore, or sitting on a dock watching it flow by, there is no end.

My writing practice is like a river, and I could get carried away with how that makes sense to me. The above quote makes sense, perfect sense to me. But how does one share a river? A fair question. If you are brave enough to read more from this guy who thinks writing is a body of water flowing past, read on and I will provide an answer.

It is simple really. It already exists in some rivers.  You share the river by stopping the flow. Not by a dam built by beavers or named after J. Edgar Hoover. It is a temporary halt, and interruption, a redirection using the same source material, of course. It’s a waterfall.

 

 

I have been integrating yoga and writing for ten years, consciously and with intent the last five or six. It has been more an intention to release everything I write during these yoga practices, even if the practice is just a five minute one before work. I have written something in the last day that I release. “Let it go, so it can flow”. And it works. I do not experience writers’ block. And since it is all one practice anyway, it is harder and harder to tell when I’m writing here at the laptop or on my mat.

 

Letting it flow

A couple years ago, I developed a blood clot in my right leg. I’ll leave out the grisly details as to how for now.  And I am on my feet all day at work. So, to give my lower legs and feet some respite, in the last two years, I have been finishing my longer yoga practices with in inverted shavasana against a wall. My bottom is against the wall, legs lined up along it, and my feet are the highest bit of my body. Arms at my side. My legs love the reversing flow and energy.

I am not sure why, but it may be because I’ve been writing for long enough that I needed another way to let it all go. Not just the daily stuff, but the accumulated bits the daily practice missed. But about six months ago, during my wall shavasana, I put my arms above my head, flat on the floor, spread all my fingers apart and imagined my body as a waterfall. My head is where the pool of water forms, stays for moment, and moves on.

 

Letting it go

I imagine this as I hold the pose, now called waterfall shavasana, and let it go so it can flow, and tomorrow I can write mo’. It works very well for me. The water flows into the pool below, stays for a bit, and keeps flowing. If I envision the writing as water, it’s how I share it.

Makes sense to me, anyway.  That concludes my sharing time for today.