A Burning Craft is Written in Ink

I didn't ask to be a writer, It's a craft of obsessions, one that's marred in constant self-criticism, self-doubt and perfectionism. While reworking all my content, my only wish, is that I'd done this sooner and that's frustrating, you know? Annoying, actually. 

I can see that shimmer of something great, but it just doesn't hit the mark. I almost feel like I've neglected my craft. I failed to give myself selflessly to it this summer and now my writing has suffered as a consequence. But then, would my writing be any good if I had not tried every experience that was open to me? Who knows?

All I know is that as Autumn begins, I'm reminded that this it is a time for creativity to flourish. It is a time for rest after the abundant restlessness of summer, and a period for self-reflection and spiritual healing. A chance to practice inner healing and to create from your inner wisdom. Another year of unknowing.

As a writer I am inclined to go into hermit mode during this season. I get out the cosy blankets and brainstorm new book ideas. My mind explodes with colours that are so delicately placed in harmony, as if a painter is working from a colour wheel.

I find it a little overwhelming sometimes, so I love to wrap up warm with a scarf around my neck and wander through the leaves when it gets too much. Always protect your Aura.

I feel at peace as Autumn begins. Not restless or blue, but content and grateful for the chance I've got to work harder on writing. I may not understand all the experiences yet, but I trust in my divine path that stretches out in front of me, scattered with maple leaves. Maybe all of them will make good poetry. 

Right now I feel like hibernating and indulging on my burning desire to work on my craft. Protection is a beautiful thing. "Burn away the feelings of inadequacy this Autumn." Then I lift my pen to the page.