planting a seed in the digital ecosystem

It’s been 7 months since I started writing my morning pages. For the past 7 months, I’ve risen each morning at 7:30am, let Eevee outside, lit a candle, and started writing. I write for approximately 45 minutes, and then I get on with the rest of my morning. After these 7 months, I’ve started to feel more like myself again. Not because other people can tell I’m a writer (because noone has yet read anything that I’ve produced, nor am I certain it is of any great quality or import) - but because I feel like a writer again. Finally.

I have always been a writer, since I was able to hold a pen. I was reading far above my grade level and would devour the books of our local libraries, sometimes copying large passages down into my composition books with my gel pens. I would write stories of great verbosity and description - often ending in a very cliched way (because endings are confusing and difficult for me to grasp, even now).

But sharing my writing? This is a new beast. I have usually thrived (well. not in a healthy way - more of an unnaturally producing great quantities under flourescent lights kind of way) under the conditions of academia - with deadlines and great bursts of energy to create an output and then dropping that material to start over. But that same “thriving” that was actually overproducing started to eat me alive, and by the time I finished my last degree… academia had sucked all the joy of everything I loved.

I have had to say goodbye to that method of learning - the one that is production at all cost, cognitive yet ungrounded in nature and the body. In the search for my curiosity, pulling at that great golden thread, I start to create informal deadlines for myself - ways to continue staying in the creative bardo, that liminal dreamtime that comes with the flow of creative process. This is the space that I inhabit best, the place where my Good Spirits live. And this is the place where I want to meet you all - here in this strange dreamspace corner of the internet, where we can be curious together and I can share the many strange things that I have learned and seen.

This is what academia left behind when it chewed me up and spit me out. The part of my artist-brain that has not yet been objectified, commodified, or vivisected. The madness that refuses to be tamed. This is the wild inside, the spiral within, the many faces of our Self within the deep ocean of the collective unconscious.

Welcome to the Unfurling, Raveling and Great Weaving, the Wonderflood and the Glimmer Temple.