When I give the inner police a day off, my words arrive seemingly out of nowhere and spill onto paper and screens. They contain pieces of my soul. That particular cocktail of letters strung together to make meaning and taste. It gets said best when the rest of me gets out of the way.
I make words up sometimes (flippajhante being a recent invention) when what is written in dictionaries feel too caged up or does not capture the blood meaning I seek. Mostly I rely on vocabulary that is part of vernacular speech and do not stray from the lexicon of acceptable words.
Reading Chronology of Water made me braver. Remove the veil of fear.
Words have started revolutions, freed slaves, and saved and lost lives. We speak them, push and pull them but mostly they pour from us seeking the light. The thing doing the seeking is us really..by us I mean the 'me' that is beyond my name, my origins, my body and any cognitive understanding I have of myself. Just pure being.
This week there has been a lot of: Look what you can do with all these wondrous drinkable words! Name the un-namable and write a voice into being or give a being a voice. Once only silence and fear. Now verbs and perfectly pruned participles.
A wordless domain the body. I wandered deep inside when I began yoga. It took a long time to get in...like really in. The dark wet spaces and bone hard tough corners and stringy muscles and endless avenues of blood and nerve that map me alive. I navigate all of this with my practice and slowly the words are starting to arrive like they have finally accepted a long ago invitation to the party.
For me, the words, the practice, the breath, the body...are celebration of nothing in particular except this moment right here. Bow down to your verbs, your pronouns, adverbs and the mighty adjectives..give them space to surprise you and express you.
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