After about an hour of reading this:

my daughter sculpts these:

I recognize this need to put a book or pen down or walk away from the computer to go make something with your hands. My daughter does it instinctively. Unlike me, there is no conflict of shoulds informing her. I should read another chapter. I should write another paragraph. As natural as taking the next breath, she switches engagements, putting the book down and picking up the clay. After some time immersed in words, she re-enters the three dimensional world in a tangible way. She plays with clay. There is much to be learned from this moment. Vital to the creative process is re-engagement with the physical world.

Jamaica Kincaid gardens. Emily Dickinson loved to bake. Flannery O’Connor ran a bird farm. I can imagine her getting up from two hours of writing and going outside to pet her peacocks. Barbara Kingsolver farms. Nabokov chased butterflies.

Without hesitation, I shall now leave my words and go chop some celery.

Published in: on November 30, 2011 at 11:17 am  Leave a Comment  

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