Friday, January 9, 2015

an empty day

Priceless Gifts

by Anna Swir

An empty day without events.
And that is why
it grew immense
as space. And suddenly
happiness of being
entered me.

I heard
in my heartbeat
the birth of time
and each instant of life
one after the other
came rushing in
like priceless gifts.

This is how it was yesterday. I wrote until I nearly collapsed. I was happy. Emptied.

Though it happens very rarely, I also have today off, which makes two days in a row. (The catch being that I'll be working this weekend).

So, naturally, last night: insomnia. I woke at around 3:30 am having had one of those frightening dreams - a series of dreams really - closely tied to real life. That was fine, normally I can go back to sleep. But then the dog, who must be telepathic, started sighing, and moaning in that plaintive way labs have. I broke down eventually and got up to see if he needed outside. But no, he just seemed to want some love and attention, and perhaps, to comfort me. I put him back in his crate where he sleeps. Went back to bed myself, and then proceeded to talk to myself for an hour or so. Fell asleep a little before 6am, our usual hour to rise.

I can only think the writing gods have it in for me, as I was hoping today would be something like yesterday. Perhaps there's still a chance if I fit a nap in at some point.

To reward myself for my clever writing day yesterday, I ran out and bought myself a little Charlie Brown fern. The snow has been abundant, and the extreme cold temperatures have started to get into my bones. (Minus 25 for example this morning, with a windchill so it feels minus 30). SAD has been creeping in....but somehow a spot of green helps.

Well. This is how it is with writing. The best laid plans are often thwarted. The secret is to go on with it anyway. Through the exhaustion, through the SAD, through it all. The secret is to fit it in, to not let yourself off the hook, to not go back to sleep.


  1. Oh, how I love that fern. I sometimes think that they're my favourite plant. And I love your reminder -- 'to not let yourself off the hook, to not go back to sleep' -- perfect for the end of my first week of going back to early morning writing after far too long of putting it off until later in the day. I hope your day redeems itself. I've got a vested interest now having just read the second essay in 'Calm Things' -- so ridiculously beautiful that I now wonder that I ever have the nerve to say anything here at all...

    1. What a lovely thing to say, Sarah. Thank you! And I hope your writing day went well, too.

  2. I love your Charlie Brown fern :-) What a great gift to yourself! It makes me smile just looking at it in its water stained terracotta pot looking quite fancy perched in your beautiful bowl. I'm sorry you suffer from SAD ... do you use a lamp to help you through the short winter days? And I agree with Sarah's comment that your essays are "so ridiculously beautiful". They are.

    1. Aww, thanks, Lynn. So glad you think so.

      I think everyone at latitude 53 must feel a bit of SAD - but mostly mine is under control. We used to use one of those lamps - could never quite figure out if it helped :) but maybe worth digging out again!

  3. I'm feeling fallow these days but not because of winter or having been so productive. I love the colours in that bowl that holds your Charlie Brown fern.


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...