Monday, February 2, 2009
the folly of thinking
I am going through the process of minor rewrites on my story "Hugs from Pearl".
The story itself was put down all in a rush, as if it were a natural birth from my mind. (Or perhaps a belch from the brain.)
Unfortunately, rewriting requires judgement and intellect, probably the dullest combo around. The story can loose its soul pretty quickly if one is not vigilant.
I'm reminded of a zen-like poem:
A centipede was happy quite,
Until a frog in fun
Said, "Pray, which leg comes after which?"
This raised her mind to such a pitch,
She lay distracted in the ditch
Considering how to run.
Curiously enough, I was hard-up against a change-resistant paragraph when I took a break to get some groceries. I hadn't walked two blocks before the solution slid into my consciousness.
This wasn't the first time that has happened to me. It seems walking turns OFF the brain. Or at least that part of the mind that sweats and struggles and over thinks and focuses on trivialities.
The analyzing mind. The editing mind. That impediment to the creative state.
The same is true I've found, while painting or drawing. By-passing the mind and opening up that conduit that flows from the senses to the hand. That is when honesty is achieved.
That's when it gets fun, too.