Weekend Prompting: Tell me about something valuable

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.

This week, the prompt was inspired by the following, from Juicy Pens, Thirsty Paper by SARK.

Writer’s Reinforcements

Every time you write, something valuable will occur.

THIS is what we forget. Our minds trick us. Our minds lead us to believe that we can’t possibly have anything of value to write about, because we look around and see waves of “Things to Do” (and occupy ourselves with these kinds of thoughts).

Writing is power-full and works in mysterious ways.

The timer was set for 10 minutes.

***

Lines in the sandIn the middle of the room is this thing we’re scared to talk about. Like it will somehow disappear if we step on it or point directly at it. So, we walk around it, wearing holes in the carpets on the perimeter of the room. We won’t step into the middle of the room. We won’t touch what’s so valuable.

I’m worried about what it would mean to do that, what this valuable thing is even doing in my house. There are pieces of every thing I have found beautiful, a tower of paintings, of books, of journals, a shifting pyramid of loved ones. I know the edges are starting to push toward the worn out track of my paced footprints, seeing but avoiding, looking as this value from the corner of my eye.

I can’t understand why I won’t look at it full frontal – face on, can’t you see what’s right in front of your face?

I’m told that writing produces value, even heard it from a professor last night, who talked about Freud and the ways he plumbed literature for psychological ‘stuff’ and recorded it, gave it names, gave it value as part of this other lineage I’m stepping into, my feet wet and me learning to swim.

So what is this ever growing tower of valuable I can’t seem to face? It’s in the center of this room and I’m trying hard to avoid it – but it keeps growing and the proper boundaries and clear lines I’ve made in the sand are going to have to shift, because the value keeps growing – there’s deep gratitude for this, a strong sense of “I don’t deserve this,” knowing it’s a fear, an uncertainty about being of value, of sinking in, if diving into this space where the world radiates goodness and it’s so bright. How do I do this?

The only way I know how – to dive in, to dive in and get the know this space as intimately as I can, because turning away from it isn’t an option. I can’t turn it off and I can’t turn away, unless I move and unless I shut the door on what’s coming.

But, I’ve flung the doors open, inviting in what may come.

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