scipleship. ‘Little me’ disappears into the timeless. Creativity flows and freedom arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation happens. There is fullness pouring into the emptiness of the surrendered heart.

This writing becomes a dance. The Beloved knows the steps and all I have to d

What does one do as a writer who loves writing and feels empty of creativity?

When the writing process stops, there is the experience of fear. There is a sense that something precious has been lost. Out of this fear comes a sense of clinging. There is a clinging to all my beautiful words. It feels as if all my beautiful creativity is melting.

I guess all writers live with this fear. That is until they remember that this flow of creation does not belong to ‘me’ or ‘mine.’ I find a wondrous freedom in such recognition. If the writing is not mine then it is a gift given to ‘little me.’ The ‘I’ in ‘little me’ has only to learn how to receive it.

I remember that the fear of not being able to write creatively is the very thing that gets in the way.

This writer waits and watches. He waits as anyone with a little bit of wisdom waits. He waits as anyone who has been graced this day on this beautiful earth waits. He waits at the centre which is always empty but is always full.

I write one word and then I write the next word. There is no judgement of the word. Or there is the observation of such judgement. This is the watching. It is like observing a cloud passing through the blue sky of awareness.

This discipline is the observer observing the action of writing. When the focus is deep enough this writer disappears into the flow. Then creative writing happens. Then the discipline has become discipleship. ‘Little me’ disappears into the timeless. Creativity flows and freedom arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation happens. There is fullness pouring into the emptiness of the surrendered heart.

This writing becomes a dance. The Beloved knows the steps and all I have to do

uess all writers live with this fear. That is until they remember that this flow of creation does not belong to ‘me’ or ‘mine.’ I find a wondrous freedom in such recognition. If the writing is not mine then it is a gift given to ‘little me.’ The ‘I’ in ‘little me’ has only to learn how to receive it.

I remember that the fear of not being able to write creatively is the very thing that gets in the way.

This writer waits and watches. He waits as anyone with a little bit of wisdom waits. He waits as anyone who has been graced this day on this beautiful earth waits. He waits at the centre which is always empty but is always full.

I write one word and then I write the next word. There is no judgement of the word. Or there is the observation of such judgement. This is the watching. It is like observing a cloud passing through the blue sky of awareness.

This discipline is the observer observing the action of writing. When the focus is deep enough this writer disappears into the flow. Then creative writing happens. Then the discipline has become discipleship. ‘Little me’ disappears into the timeless. Creativity flows and freedom arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation happens. There is fullness pouring into the emptiness of the surrendered heart.

This writing becomes a dance. The Beloved knows the steps and all I have to d

creatively is the very thing that gets in the way.

This writer waits and watches. He waits as anyone with a little bit of wisdom waits. He waits as anyone who has been graced this day on this beautiful earth waits. He waits at the centre which is always empty but is always full.

I write one word and then I write the next word. There is no judgement of the word. Or there is the observation of such judgement. This is the watching. It is like observing a cloud passing through the blue sky of awareness.

This discipline is the observer observing the action of writing. When the focus is deep enough this writer disappears into the flow. Then creative writing happens. Then the discipline has become discipleship. ‘Little me’ disappears into the timeless. Creativity flows and freedom arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation happens. There is fullness pouring into the emptiness of the surrendered heart.

This writing becomes a dance. The Beloved knows the steps and all I have to d

nt of the word. Or there is the observation of such judgement. This is the watching. It is like observing a cloud passing through the blue sky of awareness.

This discipline is the observer observing the action of writing. When the focus is deep enough this writer disappears into the flow. Then creative writing happens. Then the discipline has become discipleship. ‘Little me’ disappears into the timeless. Creativity flows and freedom arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation happens. There is fullness pouring into the emptiness of the surrendered heart.

This writing becomes a dance. The Beloved knows the steps and all I have to d

scipleship. ‘Little me’ disappears into the timeless. Creativity flows and freedom arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation arrives. The soul is allowed expression and re-creation happens. There is fullness pouring into the emptiness of the surrendered heart.

This writing becomes a dance. The Beloved knows the steps and all I have to do is learn the grace of surrender. I remember that to live a life of grace is a balance between discipline and surrender. This is the real work. This is the real life.