Of course you would end up here, so totally off course from where you thought you were headed, the track laid out in your mind, but your bliss, your truth, your very heart derailed right off like the track was butter, scampering off into the distance, and though you persisted on that track you laid, wore it down to a grave-like rut, in the end what choice had you but to follow, grumbling at first, but then your slogging feet began, of their own accord, to skip, and dance, as if your very bones were filled with helium, and you caught up with your heart, and it sang. Of course.
This morning I opened up to a random page in 1000 Songwriting Ideas, by Lisa Aschmann, closed my eyes, and stabbed my capped ballpoint pen down on the page. The word my pen landed on was “course,” preceded by “of.” From there I was off and running.
I can’t say it’s unadulterated stream of consciousness, because I’m hyper-aware of the editor at work (the crossed out section at the bottom is the only visible prof, but rest assured the editor was working throughout, mostly critically).
This 3×5 practice is an interesting contradiction: on the one hand, I aim to let the words flow, unrestricted; on the other hand, I want to like what I write. I inevitably end up failing massively at one or the other, and often both, but that’s part of the point. This practice is so much about embracing imperfection, and as a self-declared imperfectionist (ie, a recovering perfectionist), I can use as much practice at that as I can get.
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!