Guinevere and Jules are waiting for us to finish tea and make their breakfast. They are moderately patient. They are confident that breakfast will arrive.
I am waiting for inspiration. I am impatient. I am not confident that inspiration will come. For the past couple days I have been feeling a lull, like a surfer out on a flat sea, no wave in sight.
But I am keeping in mind something that Stephen Nachmanovitch said: Attempts to conquer inertia are by definition, futile. Start instead from the inertia as a focal point, develop it into a meditation, an exaggerated stillness. Let heat and momentum arise as a natural reverberation from the stillness.
I know that in dance, stillness is the canvas on which the movement appears. With my writing have lost some sense of stillness being the place to begin. I am filling the moment with too much effort, too many gestures, too little breath. There is also this:
To the mind that is still
the whole universe surrenders.
Buddha