Wednesday, 18 March 2015

Writing Practice

My writing practice happens first thing in the morning. I write in bed, resting my laptop on a wooden tray table with my name carved in the top right hand corner. The table provides a point of continuity, a fixed ritual presence that ushers me into writing no matter where I am.

Early morning is when the birds make their voices heard, when the human world feels less congested, when the love between human and earth feels soft. I add my voice to the morning songs as the earth is waking; my words bloom on the screen and the tap tapping of fingers on keyboard becomes a prayer.

This is a small miracle: imagination flows through fingers and forms into words: the fruit of regular precious practice.