Writing Meditation

Meditation.

A word I heard through an anxious period of my life. In turmoil, wanting to be better at something and a change of career, I chose to find a path meant for me.

What is it? A state of being, or wanting to be?

           I began my journey into meditation in my forties. A friend helped me to learn this art of just being in the moment. It changed my life.

           From a state of fear and anxiousness, my life opened into a realm I hadn’t known before. Life seemed to begin to work for me, rather than me working to live.

           As I learned more, I meditated more. Wherever I was. Walking, sitting on a train, down at the beach, on a break at work. My mind began to focus on my surrounds as I had never noticed before.

           This was when I began writing.

           I wrote Poems. Through the night. As I walked. When I wasn’t concentrating on work and when I was. It was as though my mind was suddenly open to words I had never known. My vocabulary opened up as my mind had - and I learned, no wanted to learn more.

           Streets of words. Mountains with letters, phrases, and sentences I had never used or thought about using suddenly became normal. And I wrote. I wrote every day. I challenged myself. A poem a day for a month. I poem about life, about war, about flowers. I noticed and wrote about every aspect of life as though the next moment would be my last.

           I wrote stories, a novel, another one. Then it stopped. I wanted to learn more, and I attended classes. I learned how to write. Not just the words, but everything about writing. Yet I am still not there. I am still learning.

           My aim? To publish perfectly. Not just a story. Rather one people want to read. Not just words, but those that are meaningful, that resonate and infiltrate memories.

           My favourite poem? I’m not sure. I have so many.

           My perfect poem? I have none. I don’t write for perfection. I’m not like that. My first career, teaching, taught me that life wasn’t meant to be perfect. That life isn’t perfect. And so that’s how I live my life and write. In a non-perfect way. I don’t adhere to the rules of vocabulary, nor conventions of poetry or writing. I don’t believe that critics or academics should judge a person because they are not ­perfect¸ but rather they should be judge by who they are and what they do to inspire and to help others.

           Meditation? Well, this has helped me to become who I want to be – a writer- with a passion to inspire. Am I there yet? Who ever becomes a perfect version of who they want to be?