Writing Can Be Like Climbing Solo Without A Rope

The exposure is less remote when practicing without a belay. 

The feel of the hand hold may seem like the most important thing at the moment.

As my hand or fingers slip from my hold and I slide off the cliff, my body banging against the rock.

I lunge out and hold on with bloody hands and as the cold numbs my fingers, I fall for the last time.

A failure to produce a final product in writing is not quite as bad as that 16 foot fall backwards into boulders onto the ground.  But it seems like it may be fatal. 

Neither will kill you, but both will cause you a lot of pain.

I am nothing when I can’t write

My voice is like a stream, it ebbs and flows.

There is nothing sadder than when it runs dry.

My throat feels sore and my heart’ beating with more beats.

My voice is falling silent.

She will not say a word.

I dare not talk to her.

My motto is do no harm to me ‘and’ to others.

She remains quiet.

I am silenced with my voice turning inward I feel anger and pain.

My thought flows about the need to express these emotions.

She works silently all day.

I am proud of her work ethic.

Did my silent, still, calm, do no harm…

Did I prod her with my whimsy silence?

The map of my feeling go from anger to pain, to bliss.

I am transmuting pain into bliss.

My voice speaks the truth to beauty.

Or does beauty speak to me?

She is still silent.