Your Space

Nate's iPhone 162


‘To describe myself in a scientific way, I must also describe my surroundings, which is a clumsy way of getting around to the realization that you are the entire universe.’ – Alan Watts –

We all have our little secluded spaces within ourselves that we withdraw to when we want to write. For some it is a completely internal hide away, a wonderful barrier that they are able to put up to block out all sounds and people. I have never been great at doing that unless I am in a coffee shop. For me the coffee shop is the best place to write. It is one of the few places that you can be fully immersed into the pubic but ignored as if the seat you sit is actually a private island. With headphones in or a book brought up to your nose people tend to just ignore you. It’s great.

Today I have a writing exercise I want to try and it’d be great if anyone else felt inclined to join.

Go to your favorite writing spot and spend 15-30 minutes free writing about what makes it the ideal writing location. If you stray from that topic and head into the great universe of some new creation, let it flow and see where you end up.

Give yourself permission to just get lost in your head.


One thought on “Your Space

  1. A space could never possibly describe my face or the way that I define my traits.

    I may say if I am honest that the wind, or rain,
    Or even the sound of a train passing does pull apart the bounds of my weakening heart,

    You see… When I find solitude in nature whether or not it is a painting or just a mere picture it tears away and brings me strength.

    Similar to the way that I have always played the piano when I am on my weakest of nights or maybe even morning lights,

    Something of beauty has always been within me,
    And I try so hard to dig and finally uncover it, but it’s just a figment of my tattered and discarded reality,
    I am a dying breed is the only thing that comes to mind,
    To have so much inside that I can not muster out a single sound as if something has a hold over my spirit.

    I am a feather flowing in the wind that has been covered in the flood of yet another beings wounds as well as ones created specifically for me.

    I am a dying breed that hides away in the pages of a book or the breeze of wind through my long dark hair,
    I am a dying breed that finds closure in the shed of a tear.

    My space is through my emotion,
    May there be days when I’m overcome with sorrow so that I can show the world what beauty the dying breed can possess. May there be sorrow to invite a well lit tomorrow.
    May there be sorrow to show the world the treason that has been thrown at us by destroying the hearts of those who hold the greatest gift,

    That of which I call the trails of emotion.

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