WHEN a poem, a chapter, a book begin to take shape … it can feel like a revelation. “Something” is there … but what? We wait. And wait. And most of all, we listen. To the wind. To the silent clouds. To the birds or the voices in a dream. To whatever seems suddenly … there. Where were those insights before? What is it about time that causes the wind to shift … internally? Or … do we imagine the entire process in the first place? Questions of time and awareness may not be on the minds of too many people, but, perhaps, they should be … perhaps.

“If, then, I were asked for the most important advice I could give, that which I considered to be the most useful to the men of our century, I should simply say: in the name of God, stop a moment, cease your work, look around you.”
Leo Tolstoy, Essays, Letters and Miscellanies

Maybe, however, those of us called to the writing table are simply more persistently drawn to the mysteries of life.

The existential. The vague, the fleeting, the profound. The intuitive nudge. Nascent, yet, compelling ideas that seem to defy expression on the page.

The motivation to explore the poignant depths of the human experience flow, for me, from a desire to escape the trite, repetitive nature of generic information that seems to be everywhere. Surface analysis. Superficial analysis. Nothing that actually manages to penetrate the darkness of existence. The interminable suffering. Or human nature and how it never seems to evolve, not much … anyway. Layers of unspoken observations no one dares to “see.” Ideas of “polite” conversation bordering on ridiculous, boring, artificial and compliant, even nonsensical.

“Meditation is the dissolution of thoughts in Eternal awareness or Pure consciousness without objectification, knowing without thinking, merging finitude in infinity.” ― Voltaire

Writers are gardeners.

Always tending to a sentence, carefully choosing words, lest confusion or misunderstanding flow from the page. An urge that seems to beckon from somewhere beyond time itself, the need to write can feel like being trapped in a funny dream that won’t let me wake up until the story (nonfiction, fiction, memoir, poetry, essay) is told.

What to make of all of this?

“What makes you think human beings are sentient and aware? There’s no evidence for it. Human beings never think for themselves, they find it too uncomfortable. For the most part, members of our species simply repeat what they are told-and become upset if they are exposed to any different view. The characteristic human trait is not awareness but conformity … .” ― Michael Crichton, The Lost World

Yes, conformity is clearly something most writers shun.

While formula fiction exists and certain themes are grossly overworked (just walk through any bookstore or browse online), when I set out to write it’s because I want to find the creative edge. The place I haven’t gone before in the creative sense. It’s an adventure, a challenge, an opportunity to explore the depths of the soul.

“Rather than being your thoughts and emotions, be the awareness behind them.”
Eckhart Tolle, A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life’s Purpose

What questions motivate you to dig deeper, to move beyond the repetitive dictates of your mind? How might you explore them anew? While this kind of thing may not be at the top of your to-do list, why not put it there … why not?

Maybe that is the secret to life. We’ll never know, for certain, but I can’t help but believe that our true purpose is something other than we think it is. So each time I encounter the blank page, I write with this in mind. Try to push myself to find the kernel of truth in an experience, an encounter, a feeling that comes and goes so quickly, I can’t quite catch it. When I write poetry, for example, the last line often comes to me just when I think the poem will never fully reveal itself. To me, to readers. A fascinating process I could never tire of or take for granted. One that begs for patience and persistence. One that honors the mysterious layers of intelligence that surround us.

The funny thing is that seeking awareness doesn’t require a great deal of “seeking.” It simply requires an openness to encountering whatever is unknown, and that is nearly everything. ~ dh

“All it takes for generosity to flow is awareness. By actively pursuing awareness and knowledge, we can make choices that cause less harm and greater good to others in the global community of our shared earth.”
Zoe Weil, Most Good, Least Harm: A Simple Principle for a Better World and Meaningful Life

Thanks for stopping by this sunny space for kindred spirits.
See you again in a few weeks.


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  1. Your writing is always thought provoking for me, Daisy. I’ve been having a little difficulty of late trying to keep the blog going. Distractions everywhere when you need them least. Simply reading your blog calms my scattered mind.
    Thank you!

    • We all need these calming influences … esp in such a toxic political climate. So glad you stopped by! Thank you so much.

  2. Audrey Denecke

    Daisy, thank you for all you offer here. When I come to your posts at your Sunny Room Studio, I always find something that does take me deeper, far beyond the mundane. And, it is always presented, as one can easily see, with carefully chosen poetry or prose or other pieces accompanied by a photo or picture of some kind. A composition offered to us for contemplation from deep mind, soul, spirit.
    I am, as you know, a newbie writer at least in the memoir genre. A few nights ago as I was restlessly laying in bed. I started thinking about my memoir preface and how to succinctly offer a premise to the reader on what initially influences who we become before we consciously become the shaper of self. A metaphor from decades earlier from a women’s spirituality group I was part of, flowed to me. This flow of a thought, words, has happened on numerous occasions. I so resonate, even as a newbie writer, with your quote, “The funny thing is that seeking awareness doesn’t require a great deal of “seeking.” It simply requires an openness to encountering whatever is unknown, and that is nearly everything. ~ dh “

    • Audrey, I loved hearing more about your writing process … it is uncanny how the right words seem to find us. I have a feeling your work-in-progress is going to be wonderful. Keep going. Trust your instincts. And thank you, as always, for being here in this sunny space for kindred spirits. Collectively, we are all “more” … especially in the creative, artistic sense of things. One never knows what will trigger the next insight or sense of “knowing.” Be well, my friend.

  3. Daisy…I will miss participating this time due to writing commitments. But I wanted to take the time to tell you how important and meaningful this little corner of the world in SunnyRoomStudio is to me. So I’ll be back when I can.


    • Camille, this sunny space is always here for you! Hoping the writing goes well; hoping this was a bit of encouragement. Keep me posted!

  4. II always love reading your reflections, Daisy. It’s like coming home.

    • Dorothy, that is a beautiful perception. Thank you so much.

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