As I get to work (in addition to keeping this blog running at a consistent schedule), I know that I need to take a few moments to breathe and not get too caught up (I'm a master of beating myself up, especially when it comes to writing). In a wonderful case of coincidence, I've experienced three outside creative moments this week, little slices of wonder that have put me at ease and helped me savor the idea of creativity in all its forms. These have no bearing or relation to my fiction projects, yet they've been strangely peaceful, and I feel like there's some connection.
First, last week I bought a used copy of The Palm at the End Of the Mind, a poetry collection by Wallace Stevens. His name has come up a few times in my readings and research in the past couple of weeks, added to the fact that I'm way behind on poetry studies. As I read through parts of the book, I stumbled across a stanza in "Thirteen Ways Of Looking at a Blackbird," a sampling of lines that I read several times at once, astonished by the emotions and imagery packed in such a small space:
"Icicles filled the long window
With barbaric glass.
The shadow of the blackbird
Crossed it, to and fro.
Traced in the shadow
An indecipherable cause."
"The look on your face yanks my neck on the chain..."
The atmosphere does not diminish no matter how many times I listen to it. I can think of dozens of awesome (in the literal sense) song metaphors by many different bands/musicians, but that one line hits me in the stomach everytime, always carrying the same impact.