Writing in the White Space: Playing Until My Name Looks Like Me

Writing in the White Space

White space is where creativity can breathe and come to life within us.

I wrote this piece a year ago as I was emerging from a long, dark winter of pain into the spring of new beauty and life . . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have a new journal.

I fill it with words that flow lazily from a high mountain stream. It’s a trickling of water really, looking for a path to forge as it wanders along cracks in the hardened soil and around the strewn pebbles of my abandoned creative self.

I write in

new journal handwriting

hoping the flowing curves and hidden joy of simulating swoopy “a’s” and “g’s” on the screen will help the words find their own curves and rhythm.

Fearfully, timidly, clutching my tattered memory of a yellow Easter bonnet with long flowing white ribbons that danced and fluttered joyfully in the spring breeze, I open the latched and rusted iron gate of my creativity.

old rusty metal padlocks on chains

Opened to the infinite, vulnerable in the newness of this life, I am young again, and I struggle to breathe the air here.

I no longer know who I am. I don’t know where the words come from, how they will shape themselves, or where they will go.

I’m too old for this nonsense, a distant school teacher voice scolds me for trading “serious work” for play.

The little girl with the bonnet turns away in shame . . . ribbons drag in the mud.

Turn back and play. This is right, this is life, the voice of the yellow bonnet whispers.

But my bonnet’s dirty now, I protest.

Turn back and look again.

I obey . . . not with faith, still in fear.

The ribbons dance again. Joy can breathe again.

I write my name with a stick in the dust:

names

girl hat 2I gently snap the elastic thread around my chin and secure the bonnet to my head so I can sit down and practice some more.

This is where I must start.

I’ll learn to breathe here drawing curvy lines in the sand until the rhythm is just right.

new journal me

Linda CrawfordLinda Crawford

Six Minute Sabbath: To Create

God created human beings; he created them godlike, reflecting God’s nature. Gen 1:27 MSG

It seems a mystery to me–where the vision, voice, and melody of creative inspiration originates.

Beethoven Piano Concerto #3

Piano Concerto #3 handwritten score by Ludwig van Beethoven

Yet we, as created beings ourselves, were designed to create. To paint pictures that have never been painted, compose music that has never been heard, write words that have never been spoken, and dance to choreography that has never been danced.

To create beauty–to create what has never before been created–brings glory to THE Creator.

Today, this story and piece of music inspires me to give glory to God for endowing us with the ability to create such beauty. May it inspire you to embrace the notes of your own creative melody–because we are all created to create.

Beethoven: Imagining the Notes

When Beethoven performed his Piano Concerto No. 3 in concert for the very first time, he had no music. His friend, who turned the pages of the music for him that night, later wrote:

“I saw almost nothing but empty pages; at the most, on one page or another a few Egyptian hieroglyphs wholly unintelligible to me were scribbled down to serve as clues for him; for he played nearly all the solo part from memory since, as was so often the case, he had not had time to set it all down on paper.”

Lord, may we embrace inspiration, and be infused with courage, to create works of  beauty to bring you glory!

Linda Crawford

©Linda Crawford 2013