It’s hot and humid today. There’s a breeze that smells of the ocean and green growing things. When I look up from my writing, I see a horizon of water that is every shade of turquoise and blue. There’s deep purple at the farthest edge.
I am on the big island of Hawaii. For the past six glorious days I have been playing. Swimming, snorkeling, reading, eating, napping, playing cribbage and crazy eights with my husband. Walking. Writing. Sitting doing nothing except watching the ocean.
Yes, writing is here, listed under playing. Tuesday morning I played with my book, and ‘played’ is accurate.
I pulled out my notes and Mickey Mouse pencils. I had no expectations. I only knew I needed to write. I was missing something I love.
Tuesday I turned work into play. I wrote with curiosity and wonder. I opened to possibilities that might show up, even if they shifted my direction and caused a need to rewrite. I explored the story.
It’s true writing is work, yet it is work I love. Tuesday I got to be curious and wondering, open and exploring. I got to watch possibilities arise from my words, and experience creation.
Yes, it required work in the form of attention, focus, time, and energy. It required commitment to saying “I will rewrite this” when something was not the best it could be. It needed willingness and courage to move into my truest truth when it felt painful or frightening.
Something pulls at me if I don’t write for a few days. Desire, need, obsession. Yes. Even more, it is curiosity and love for writing. I can’t not write.
My attitude has slowly shifted work into play. I love that writing has become a mix of both these things. Saying yes I’ll write today, with a feeling of curiosity, opens my heart. When my heart is open, possibilities open as well. My writing takes a direction my mind did not expect, I go exploring, and learn something new.
This is play and work as one. I love that I get to write.