Part 5 in a weeklong series of blog posts written by undergraduate students from the 2017 spring-semester class, “Mindfulness & Compassion: Living Fully Personally and Professionally” at the University of Virginia.
Because writing is listening, I am a listener first.
And long a lover of words — the way they dance off the tongue and across the page — I am a writer. Yet this birthing process of rich and honest communication can be dry, draining, a bit too cerebral sometimes. Trying to write authentically, full-heartedly, is, whether scribbling loosely in a leather-bound journal or perched behind a blue-white screen, challenging. And more times than not, our everyday lives aren’t conducive to creativity; they aren’t particularly inviting to imaginative streams of consciousness. No, we who love words run rampantly fragmented, frazzled, unfocused, and then force ourselves to sit suddenly alone with our words, these swirling, swirling storms of thought that exhaust and overwhelm us in moments of respite. And I wonder: how might I make peace with the pre-creative process — that procedure which is the pulse of communication but at the same time turbulent, messy, and just plain loud? Indeed, the best writing comes from honest, quiet listening: that listening comes generally from the listening to the soul — and also, of course, to the body in which the soul makes its home. Might mindfulness, then, the very act of paying attention to bodily sensations over time, improve focus and fuel creativity when I sit down to write? Read More