Ah, a week of openings (digital poetry journal Gyroscope Review is now open for submissions), preparations (print flash fiction journal Fine Linen is in press), cleaning up (goodbye for now, Christmas tree and ornaments and wrapping paper and cookies), and packing (San Diego is on my horizon). Minnesota was below zero for much of the week and snow fell, schools closed, our dogs curled up into furry lumps.
As I huddled under the blankets to warm my icy toes, I noticed the full moon’s soft yet clear light and subsequent winter shadows on the snow outside our windows. I listened to wind push snow off our roof, sing through our white pine trees, and saw the swirling dance of snowflakes as they sailed on the cold air. This first week in January is the epitome of winter in Minnesota.
And I am grateful for it. Why? Because I am reminded how lucky I am to have a warm house and clothes, a car that starts, enough food in the cupboard. I am lucky to have work that I love, and people with whom to share everything. I’m not inclined to complain about winter, although I probably would have been happy to skip slipping on ice the week before last and spraining my wrist. I’m much more inclined to notice that stark beauty that winter offers and take that deep inside.
Last week, I talked about winter, too, and its nudge toward introspection. One of the five questions I put out for writers and other artists was the question of how to fill our own creative wells, something I love to think about. So, today, the five fragments are about that. How does one fill their creative well? Here are some ways to get that conversation going.
1. Travel to a place you’ve never been – even if it’s only a block away.
2. Go sleep in your own guest room. What’s the first thing you think when you open your eyes in the morning?
3. Draw a diagram of where you want to go next, whether it’s a physical place or a state of mind.
4. Visit a museum by yourself. No friends/family allowed to accompany you.
5. Schedule at least a day to be offline – no computer, no tablet, no cell phone. And no advance notice to everyone who would try to talk you out of it.
Come back and let readers know what worked for you!