Doing Nothing

I really like this:

"I've long since stopped feeling guilty about taking being time; it's something we all need for our spiritual health, and often we don't take enough of it." (2)

It reminds me of Christopher Robin's conversation with Winnie the Pooh at the end of House at Pooh Corner:

"What I like doing best is Nothing."
"How do you do Nothing?" asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time.
"Well, it's when people call out at you just as you're going off to do it 'What are you going to do, Christopher Robin?' and you say 'Oh, nothing,' and then you go and do it."
"Oh, I see," said Pooh.
"This is a nothing sort of thing that we're doing now."
"Oh, I see," said Pooh again.
"It means just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

Just as Christopher Robin later bemoans the fact that he won't be able to do Nothing nearly so much anymore because of the grown-up expectations about to be placed upon him, L'Engle mourns the frequent loss of a sense of childlike joy and wonder. Pooh is a master of doing Nothing, yet he is also the most artistic of the inhabitants of the Hundred-Acre Wood. His "poohetry" stems from his willingness to quietly go along, enjoying the world around him. He doesn't stress out about being productive; it's an organic process.

I sometimes find it hard to take the time to "do Nothing"; I always seem to feel the pressure of time even when I don't have any particular deadlines - one bother that plush Pooh is immune to! But doing Nothing is a very worthwhile exercise, especially if it's of the outdoor variety on a beautiful day like today. Of course, it never hurts to have a pencil and notepad in hand just in case Nothing yields Something...

Writing on a Deadline

I can relate so well to the frustration Christian singer-songwriter Nichole Nordeman describes in the Foreward; not sure if it's in your edition or not, but she talks about being forced to write at a time when she was incredibly uninspired and this book making the difference in getting her real creative juices flowing again.

Deadlines have always stressed me out. Then again, they've also kept me going. I always seem to manage when it's an essay for school or a certain number of reviews or a newspaper article, though I do a fair bit of fretting. But writing stories, poems and that kind of thing gives me a lot more trouble, and if it's a self-imposed deadline, chances are I just let it slide, since I can't seem to stick with it, especially if it's one long project, such as a novel, rather than a collection of several short projects, like my self-imposed parody challenge. I finished that, but I've got a book I started wriitng about five years ago that's nowhere near completion. It's got a few chapters but no sense of direction, and I've been totally stalled on it for a year or two.

What do you do to defeat writer's block? At what point do you decide that a particular project just isn't going anywhere? And do you find you write more effectively when a deadline is imposed upon you by others or when you set your own? I'm really ready to tackle some poetry and fiction again. Hopefully Walking on Water will help me to get my juices flowing too!

Walking on Water: First Thoughts

Well, we've not gotten very far with this blog so far. :-) I still can't believe summer is over and gone...and September seems to be galloping by at an alarming rate too!

I'm glad we've decided to read Walking on Water next. It's long been one of my very favorite of Madeleine's books, and one of my favorite books on faith and creativity period.

I just started re-reading the other day. I'm only a few pages in, but I keep pausing and smiling because I have so very many favorite quotes. Not just quotes by Madeleine herself either. I was realizing how many other quotes and poems she introduced me to. I read this book for the first time in 1987 and I'm pretty sure it was my introduction to Coleridge's "willing suspension of belief," for instance. I know it was also the first place I'd ever read e.e. cumming's wonderful poem beginning "i who have died am alive again today..."

But some of the things Madeleine herself said were very important to me the first time I ever read them, and have remained so. They've sort of embedded themselves in my heart and mind and become touchstones for me as I try to continue to live out a writing life, one that is connected (I hope deeply) to my living out of my faith.

One of those important quotes comes on p. 18 (of my 1980 edition published by Shaw) when Madeleine writes:

"Obedience is an unpopular word nowadays, but the artist must be obedient to the work, whether it be a symphony, a painting, or a story for a small child. I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small, comes to the artist and says 'Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.' And the artist either says, 'My soul doth magnify the Lord,' and willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses; but the obedient response is not necessarily a conscious one, and not everyone has the humble, courageous obedience of Mary."

To "willingly become the bearer of the work." That has been a ribbon I've carried from this book for a long time. To obediently respond to God's call on our lives...any call, but specifically here, the creative call. To write a story or craft a poem not just for fun (though it can be delightful) and not primarily to serve myself or my own purposes, but because the work presents itself as something that needs to be written. It feels grandiose to say that God calls us to create/write whatever that work is, and to do it lovingly and well, but I think at the deepest level, that's what Madeleine is saying here. It feels very freeing to me that she sees this as a fundamental truth underlying ALL creative work, not just inspired works of clear genius.

I've absorbed this thought for such a long time that I think it effects the way I look at certain works of art. If they're made well and lovingly, crafted carefully, then I think the author has borne the work well....

I seem to be rambling, but it's late and I'm tired. And I've already been interrupted once by a power outage...we're getting some high winds out there tonight! So I'll just leave this with one more thought/question: if artists/writers are birth-givers, can we stretch the metaphor to say those that teach, mentor and encourage other artists/writers are midwives?