light dawns anew

11/17/2021 0 By BuddyCushman

I like opening the blinds early, it’s become light out. But the overhead lamp, if anyone bothered to look in from the sidewalk, shines down on a man you (sidewalk travelers) could presume a struggling writer, hunched over a notebook at a small black desk, madly scribbling in longhand. So, they may think, possibly the good old days – at least the writers passing among them may think that. And how could they know these are every day Morning Pages, three of them, composed pretty much non-stop, all following a suggestion in the Julia Cameron book “The Artist’s Way”. Write three pages in a notebook every morning – she suggested – for the 12 weeks of her ‘course’, and if you’re smart (she added) you’ll keep doing it forever. Which is what noticers out there would see through the opened blinds into here – my forever behavior.

And this is not exhibitionism. I could care less. I like seeing as much daylight as possible and especially when it goes away so early in these months with the clock turned back. Plus, me having had two cups of coffee (one out of a well-used Starbucks ‘to go’ cup), sometimes as I write so early I’ll arrive at decisions, following the understood ode of authors – “I write to see what I’m thinking.” Also, sometimes I receive flashes of distinct ideas, and I had one a couple of minutes ago, which was try to remember every single place I’ve written Morning Pages (since May 2011). I’m not sure my mind has that much memory gas left, but immediately sliding in is my ex-wife’s parents’ sun room table, me the only one up in the house, rambling on, though occupants do stir before I come to the final third-page period. Also, a dining room table at an apartment on Newport Ave in Ocean beach, way high-on-a-hill up there with a crazy magnificent view of the Pacific maybe eight blocks away, a place my ex and I discovered via internet surfing magic and rented for five-day stretches the two or three years before Covid.

Also, there’s a small round table, me sitting on a high stool-type chair on the lanai of an eight-day rented place in Waialua on Oahu’s North Shore – Hawaii. Morning Pages.

Ah, strolling memory lanes early on a Wednesday morning. How could this – hauling up remembrances from the vault – be anything but a fabulous gift, and for all I know, helps to ward off dementia. But that’s not the goal. It’s more simple, the writing, like opening blinds to let in the light. I don’t believe there is a goal. It’s just I read a book more than 10 years ago, and I thought a suggestion beyond the parameters between the first and last page – keep doing it – sounded interesting. Along with breathing, it’s one of the only things I’ve done since.

Call that joyous or sad or both.