Weekend Prompting: What will you do? / I will…

Every Friday, there will be a prompt to lead us to the weekend. I would love to see your responses or thoughts about process in the comments. Or, even better? Leave us a link to your own blog and response there!

I challenge you to sit, breathing just like you do, and just see the world around you. Just a few minutes, a few breaths. Then, set a timer or page limit (for however long you want), and WRITE! Just put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard). Don’t stop. Don’t think. Just ground yourself in the prompt. Come back to it if you need to. But, for all that is good in this world, tell us your story.

Where did this weekend’s prompt come from? Well, I recently started following a Tumblr blog, hey amber rae. Not sure how I found her. (Perhaps The August Break? I randomly added close to 50 new people to my Google Reader to check out.) But, one of her recent entries was called Want Less, Will More. It struck a chord with me, especially the distinction between “I want [insert dream here]” and “I will…” Both are very open ended but there’s a sense of forward movement in the latter. Wanting is necessary. It serves as the drive to get where we want to go. But, I keep saying, I want to have a practice… but when it gets to the “I will” of reality? I’m not concrete about it.

This was a 15 minute limit for me. (Note: This one fluctuated between truth and fiction. When I practice, I find those lines becoming blurry and creativity and life merging. This is really neat for me. That said, it doesn’t mean that anything I write is completely non-fiction. Our brains are funny places.)

***

writing and pen
From tonight’s practice.

What will you do? / I will…

What will you do? What will I do? I will not give up. I will keep moving forward. I will I will I will I will I will I will I will will myself to write. Practice. What will you do? They ask it in hushed tones, they wonder how the diagnosis, break up, change, loss, love, creative endeavors will go. What will you do?

I’ve stared out the window until I’m sick. There’s a trapped bird beating itself against the window and I’m sitting at this desk, wondering where the window leads. I’ve stayed sitting at the desk at the two story level for six years nine days and seven and a half hours. I think there’s change on the horizon. Everyone expects great things. I’m hoping to simply put one foot in front of the other. Move forward, even a fraction of an inch.

Well, what would you do? I will put one word after the other. I will wake up and see this precious opportunity to stretch. I will look at my world differently, because I often see it with closed eyes.

I will listen to the washing machine’s hum and for the kick on of the air unit and I will see gratitude’s face. I will remember that path to the hot springs, long and winding, covered with rocks and dirt and how I kept following it, hoping I knew where I was going.

I will show up and I will seek compassion for when I don’t. I will try to put that 2×4 down. I will remain curious and open and not think this is the only chance. I will see the sunrise and I will laugh at the guinea pigs’ crazy antics.

I will complete my to do lists and will find a place where what happens is not simply lists to get through but genuine pleasure in that moment or simply What Needs To Be Done.

There is a certainty about “I will” that I’m not sure I feel right now.

What will I do?

What will you do?

I guess I take the latter as a challenge, if someone were to ask me. “What will you do with this one precious wild life?” Misquote of Mary Oliver – I won’t stop writing to check though my hands itch to know the actual quote. (N.B.: It’s “Tell me / What is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?”) Time enough for that. My hand is cramping. I want to know how much longer but keep writing.

How much do I want this? Will willing willful willfulness wily wheelie the wheels on the bus go round and round.

I will keep writing and I will practice. There is no perfect. This is about showing up, doing the work. I hear the ice cream truck and Sarah asks if I want some. There is no more ice cream for me tonight. Already in my belly.

What will you do?

What will you do?

I will keep writing. I will look forward and I will see the places full of growing.

What will you do?

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