strands of slow dreaming

It's been a long day, strewn with rain, and very cold. Here at the end of it, I have little to offer, and so I shall leave instead a few glimpses into the dream I am weaving together at the moment, a winter dream that I hope will wake in the summer time ... a quiet, simple dream slipping itself into small moments between the filled-up hours of daily life ...


The next morning, she walked out through pearl-light and wish-light to gather shells, sea-washed sorrows, from the tide line. They rustled in her cardigan pockets as she walked towards home. 

* * *

The moon fattens. It is tenderness, the soft old song of the night. I wish I could climb into the sky, using clouds and stars for footholds, to dip myself in white light.

* * * 

The day hushed slow away. And the sky, bruised and wild like a survivor of the sun, came utterly undone. Chloe sat in her garden, watching, waiting. Her lap was full of odd things. Words, broken flowers, sighs, memories of smiles caught in a sidelong eye.


There have been times when I've worried about the smallness and quietness, because writing-everyday and being-busy is advised and celebrated. But the truth is, it's really lovely to go in a small way, a quiet gentle way, when time allows and joy inspires.

I hope your day is a lovely one, and that you are feeling lovely too within yourself.




16 comments:

  1. Hello Sarah, thank you for your beautiful words. I also love to walk along the beach or walking in a small way. For me it is very important in a busy life. I take the time to enjoy my garden and slow down. I wish you a lovely day.

    Ida.

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    1. Nice to meet you Ida, thank you for your lovely comment.

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  2. I'm just beginning my day, and it was a lovely way to start, reading your words.

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  3. Your words are like a gentle antidote to modern life. Can't think of anything nicer to say... At this moment.

    Because if we need anything, we need a gentle antidote to modern life.

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  4. "The moon fattens. It is tenderness, the soft old song of the night."

    Oh perfect... With the coming soon, of our Full Green Corn Moon. And I will copy your words, with your name of course, to use as one of my ending quotes, this week. :-)

    In fact, why don't I do this, often??? :-)

    Tessa

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  5. i'm with you; i think the facile exhortations to "write, write, write" (or whatever) are a bit...much. for some people or under some circumstances, perhaps a daily discipline of creative practice may be helpful, but for other people and situations, perhaps other ways of being creative are best. it often comes across that if we aren't doing our art daily (or being paid for it), somehow it's illegitimate. it's *less* than it *should* be in some way. it's just not serious...

    but i don't believe that. i don't believe in "one size fits all" anything, actually. writing small and quiet is a beautiful thing, as your word-smithing above testifies. i like to think of it as creating the way a flower turns to the sun---the words or art just bubble up from us in response to something we find lovely or moving. there is an immediacy, an authenticity, in this, which i think others can recognize and respond to. it's why inspiration has always been valued!

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    1. I absolutely agree with you. I often actually think that there's so much masculine advice out there to writers - even though alot of it comes from women. I don't understand how any woman who is also a mother, homemaker, and who may work at other things, can advocate a daily discipline for all. Where is the understanding for the real lives of women? Not to mention the way the feminine brain tends to operate?

      And yes about the "being paid for it" part also!

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  6. This post is just so lovely. Thank you.

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  7. I love your words Sarah - they are soft and gentle and written with a feeling of romance and longing.
    "The moon fattens. It is tenderness, the soft old song of the night. I wish I could climb into the sky, using clouds and stars for footholds, to dip myself in white light." PERFECT.

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  8. You have my piqued my interest and stirred my heart with your lovely, gentle, evocative words. I can't wait to read more. ♥

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  9. Your words fill me with thoughtfulness and peace. ..."And the sky, bruised and wild like a survivor of the sun came utterly undone." Just lovely.

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