The Morning Pages

I'm always writing something down. I'm typing up thoughts for a blog entry in my phone, I'm scribbling something in the back of my notebook, an idea I couldn't let get away, I'm adding depth and real life to my characters, I'm pulling over while driving to write one particularly moving thought on the back of an old receipt (if I'm meeting you somewhere, and I'm late, this is probably the reason why), I'm underlining the best parts of a story, I'm jotting down the outline of last night's dream which makes me nearly positive I'm losing my sanity. 

All in one day, however, probably my favorite method of collecting my thoughts is through the suggestion of author and teacher Julia Cameron, an exercise called "The Morning Pages." This practice came to me through one of her books titled The Artist's Way. In this book, Cameron basically walks you through the steps of regaining your creativity, of allowing yourself time to do the things you love, the things that make you who you are, to not guilt yourself out of enjoying the freedom to paint, to sketch, to write, to do the thing that move you, whatever it may be. Cameron gently insists that one of the reasons we distance ourselves from the artist's life is because our minds are too overloaded, are constantly not living in the moment, are thinking of other things that need to be done, are concocting to-do lists and rating free time and simple enjoyment as extras, as things we don't get to do until our chores are completed, until our lives are in order. Which, simply stated, will never be. We can be more organized, more focused and task-oriented, but nothing ever falls together all at once. If we're waiting for that particular moment, Cameron says, the artistic side of us never had a chance. 

In order to avoid this catastrophic case of routine, of deciding that some things are necessary and others aren't crucial enough (the irony being that they are the most important!), of putting everything else before the things we love the most, Cameron suggests that we spill our guts onto paper. Which, for me, as someone who likes to write, not only gives me yet another outlet to craft my words, but brings me to a sense of (perhaps temporary) calm about what is happening in my life. The morning pages are all your own; they are yours to admit what you'd like without over-thinking it. Cameron is clear that it is not a diary, not necessarily a journal of your day or mindless list-making for what's ahead. First thing in the morning, it is your chance to let it out, to make sense of it (sort of) and release it, allowing for other things, other projects, other thoughts, to take precedence. The first few times I tried it, I felt a little strange. Mostly because, as Cameron described, I didn't have to think very hard about what to write. One little sentence, one shortened notion, and suddenly my pen was flying, my sleepy-headedness was gone, I almost couldn't move my hand fast enough to keep up with my brain, to keep up with all the things the page urged out of me. 

I finished The Artist's Way about a year ago, and for some reason, and one I am grateful for, the morning pages stuck. I admit, I am not as diligent about it as I was while reading Cameron's book. But I sense a real difference in myself on the days when I make the time for it, fifteen minutes of clarity, and the days that I don't. Lately, more than I ever, I have been picking up that little orange notebook, bolting up out of bed to tell myself the truth. And even though Cameron might slap my wrist for this one, for sharing a piece of what she deems is specifically private, I wrote something the other day, at the silent hour of six in the morning, that has not since left my mind. Not for its profundity, not for its brilliance, not because they are the finest words ever written. But the morning pages coax out of you your most honest moments. Which for me, was this: 

Change is coming. I can actually tangibly feel it. It's sitting in the palm of my hand, and I have it now. This particular scenario, I hope. I hope. But if not, something soon. Change is coming. 

I don't know if it is the return of hope that brings me here, the newness in the air, the greenness all around, the positive energy that keeps me humming, or a combination of all of these things. But I think that was one of the only times my morning pages contained a clear affirmation, not just a hope, a wish for the future. Which to me, is a change all unto itself.

P.S. Going into New York City this Tuesday, at 11:30 AM, to meet with one of the co-founders of the company where I hope to intern. Feeling nervously good, and ready ready ready. More to come next week.