The First Thing I Notice

Today I'm writing in the morning.

A new decision. 

The first thing I notice is it's hot in the kitchen with the morning sun streaming in. I have the shades down so my view is of closed shades. Except for the window in the middle of the wall of windows. The one in the door. There's no shade there. So no wide-open view of sky for me today. Although...if I look up to my right I can see the sky from another window. And trees framing it. But I don't move my chair to make that my primary view because I don't want to look at the house next door. 

So, writing much earlier in the morning will give me a cool room with a view.

On summer days I tend to move through the house with the sun, opening and closing shades to moderate the temperatures. I don't use air conditioning unless I absolutely have to. I prefer fresh air. 

I've opened the shade with the view of the treetops framing the skies. The sun has moved enough that I can do that. So it just may be a good time to write after all. View wise.

I know people who put their writing desks against walls that they either leave blank, fill with a vision board, rotate a curated collection, or have a single, lovely piece of art. I have always had my writing desk in front of a window. I like to look outside into a beautiful, natural scene. When I lived in a home I owned, I usually sat outside to write in a beautiful natural setting. When I go away for a writing trip, I set up so I can write in nature. 

Writing for me is not so much work as it is an extension of my belonging to the natural world around me.

So I have to be honest here. I haven't put fingers to keyboard in more than ten minutes. That insight has caught me by surprise. And I'm finding myself wanting to sit with it awhile. I'm just not really sure what to say after that. I'm noticing myself applying my Natalie Goldberg writing practice skill of "keep going, keep your pen moving" tool. Even if it means writing what's in your head about your process rather than what you were writing about. The idea is that what needs to come will eventually come. 

But something within tells me it's time to stop and to just let that be. That this part of my writing today is finished. 

That I've found what I came for today.

The Summer of Self-Love is a daily writing practice birthed June 1, 2018 as a container for harnessing three months for thriving. The goal at the end is to host a dinner party. Sounds like an odd Hero's Journey, doesn't it? Most of them usually are.