It was a late night last night — a long-planned fancy dinner with my love. (Unsolicited restaurant plug — seriously check out Scratch Bar in Beverly Hills. *Swoon*)
And yet at 3am, my eyes popped open. Good morning, Monday!
After half an hour of realizing that there was no way I was falling back asleep, I curled up on my couch, staring out at the orangish Los Angeles sky above my apartment. The streetlights are alive and well in my neighborhood. And the silence feels physically tangible. I haven’t even made it to my coffee yet.
Everything in me wants to rush past this moment.
Dear Lord, can’t I just go back to sleep? Who should I start emailing? What can I start writing? I could call Laurie — she’s already awake on the East Coast. Hell, there is a Good Wife episode sitting on my DVR that apparently I’m supposed to watch RIGHT NOW.
Sometimes a voracious appetite for anything other than my own thoughts can expertly masquerade as ‘creative inspiration’.
And yet, at least in my experience, learning to live in the quiet is just as essential — if not possibly even more essential — in the creative life. Boredom is my friend. Silence is my friend. The vacuum left when there is no immediate input is also my friend.
It creates balance. It’s permission to stop and thrive, rather than survive. It’s space for my soul.
Today, my quiet moments came early. Very early. And there was space to stay there for a while. Sometimes, those moments come in just that — moments. Two or three minutes in between phone calls and meetings. But they are equally important for my writing life. The quiet is allowed.
Where are you allowing the quiet in your own life?
And now the sun is rising… and I think it’s going to be a beautiful day.
[EDIT: Shortly after posting this, I did end up watching that episode of The Good Wife… My thoughts are here if you dare.]
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