This month Fiona Robyn has once again invited her readers to join in with the annual Mindful Writing Challenge, by writing a small stone* every day for the month of January. While I haven’t joined the challenge for this month, I have instead set myself the challenge of being more mindful over the course of the year. The reason for this is that for me, being mindful for a month is great but then I’m likely to get out of the habit. However, if I resolve to be more mindful generally, it will hopefully become more of a way of being.
In order to try and ensure I stick to this, I promise to post at least one small stone a month on my blog. I may share more on twitter, and I may keep some to myself, as reminders to be mindful. Why not join me?
Here’s January’s offering:
We stop to look at these leaves. They are brown, most of them. We reach out to touch, gently. I apply a little pressure and they crumble in my hand. He looks surprised and backs away. We return here, later and I notice that some of the leaves have retained a greenish tinge. He touches one of these and it crunches but does not crumble. He smiles.
*What’s a small stone?
This small stone was inspired by a challenge from Kaspalita at Writing Our Way Home, about the art of selection. It began as a poem about the park in the spring, then I remembered Kaspalita’s challenge and decided to forget the poem and just focus on one small part, writing whatever came to mind. Here’s the result:
This leaf shines a brilliant green, reflecting the mid morning sun. It has a scar down its left side that leads to a dry patch – brown/grey and flaky. It looks like it would turn to dust if the wind picks up. Its so vibrant, so alive at its root but the life seems to drain away at the tip.
Hello dear readers, good to ‘see’ you again. I hope you enjoyed this week of small stones. I really enjoyed writing them, both as a kickstart to my creativity, and as an exercise in mindfulness.
As a result of this week, I notice I have some new readers… Welcome! Do grab a cup of tea and toasted teacake. Glad you could join us.
So, I promised something different at the weekend didn’t I? Well, I have decided to stick with poetry this week so have written a poem for you – this started as a small stone on the day I wrote ‘Roadworks,’ but I decided to be a bit cheeky with it.
If you were here last year, you may remember that I talked about the poem that sums up my spring…? Well, here’s my version of that poem, with apologies to Wordsworth.
I wandered with baby from Leyton to Stratford
Both of us lost in daytime dreams
When, distracted from my reverie
I saw a flash of yellow and green
Between the empty bottles of Diamond White and Holsten Pils
Grew some ghetto strength daffodils
Golden streaks of sun among last nights debris
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
A battered New Look bag
Lies on the pavement
Full to bursting
With black leather shoes
Among the overflow lies
A single studded boot.
Drumming against the window
The rhythm relaxes me
It seems so much louder
When I am out in it
It drums through my clothes
Soaks my skin
The sun shines through the window
And light scatters silently across the room