The Opening Up

The opening up candi shelton

Words fight their way up and out, bending and propelling the body to guide them into daylight. 

They’ve been in here too long; it’s getting cramped.

When no perceivable cohesion is formed, still they come. Tumbling, tripping over one another, pouring forth into the practice of sentence and structure, backing their way into meaning. Or is it that meaning is intrinsic to them, just as oxygen to lungs? Do they just know what to do once they’re breathing externally, these words that look vaguely like me but still swollen from the trauma of labor?

Is this what it means to be present in a moment? To watch it form around you like colored smoke and fairy dust? Present cannot be passive, as it exists, in very definition, to sew into the fabric of now the stitches of a moment’s design. The words are at work here, and I am active in my being among them, not frantic with sensibleness or measurement. We’re all hands and needles here, sewing and weaving, pulling the threads and watching the colors bleed into each other, enjoying every over under, anticipating the garment we must be creating. 

Oh how beautiful to sing, but even more to hear the song yet written as it stirs inwardly. Oh, what joy to finish the thing, but what strange delight in the precarious wondering about the thing that could someday be. 

Don’t let them tell you ideas are worthless.

If only for the single universe of the mind in which a thought is had, if only for that solitary soul to be opened up broader, more lovely, then it will have been priceless indeed.

Drive on, brave souls. Drive through the doubt and delivery. March down into the valley of volume and keep your meekness. Rise at the peak in peace with assurance that your presence in the idea is what illuminates the way for the ones to come. Create in full, and let the words, the colors, the movements dance their way out as you relax into the moment. Give it room, and it will grow. Give it water and it will shoot toward the light. 

Just breathe. 

You are a creator...

... and you were created for this.

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Unthawing: Reflections on writing + self