Many years ago, I picked up a book called The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron.
One of the practices she recommends is something she calls Morning Pages: three pages of longhand, stream-of-consciousness writing, done in the morning.
So I decided to try it.
Every morning, shortly after waking up, I sat down with my pen and started writing.
Three pages.
Except there was one small problem.
I had absolutely nothing to say.
😂
I would sit there with the pen in my hand thinking:
This is stupid.
I don’t know what to write.
What am I supposed to write about?
And then I realized…
Well, that’s what was in my head.
So that’s what I wrote.
This is a stupid exercise.
I have nothing to say.
I don’t know why I’m doing this.
Blah, blah, blah.
Whatever was there, I wrote it.
I wasn’t trying to tell a story.
I wasn’t writing about what I’d done the day before.
I wasn’t trying to make it meaningful.
And I certainly wasn’t trying to write something anybody else would ever read.
I was simply putting on paper whatever was passing through me at that moment.
And rather quickly, I discovered something.
I Became the Witness
There was something very freeing about not trying to produce anything.
I wasn’t the teacher.
I wasn’t the coach.
I wasn’t the writer.
I wasn’t trying to figure anything out.
I was simply the witness.
A thought came up.
I wrote it.
A feeling came up.
I wrote it.
Something ridiculous came up.
I wrote that too.
And because I wasn’t deciding what was worthy of being written, I began giving myself access to things that I might otherwise have interrupted.
That’s where it became very interesting.
Something Else Began to Speak
After a while, the writing started taking me somewhere else.
This is difficult to describe because I don’t particularly want to put a label on it.
I began to experience what I can only describe as seeing from somewhere around my solar plexus.
I’ve talked before about experiencing my intuition there, but this seemed to be more than intuition.
Images came.
Places came.
Experiences came.
And I wrote what I was seeing.
I didn’t stop and ask:
What is this?
Is this real?
Am I making this up?
What does this mean?
I just kept the pen moving.
And those pages began taking me on extraordinary journeys through my inner world.
Eventually, those experiences opened the door to something I came to understand as shamanism.
I hadn’t studied shamanism first and then tried to create the experience.
I had the experiences first.
Only afterward did I discover that there was a word and a tradition associated with some of what I was experiencing.
For me, shamanism became something very natural: a way of traveling through my inner world and experiencing realities beyond my ordinary thinking mind.
But that’s another story for another day.
And probably another Bench article.
😂
I Stopped Writing
I continued my Morning Pages for many years.
Then life changed.
I had a dog.
And anyone who has a dog knows that when you wake up in the morning, apparently your inner spiritual development is not the first priority.
😂
The dog needs to go out.
So gradually my morning routine changed, and eventually I stopped writing my Morning Pages.
My dog died about two years ago, and somehow I never picked the practice back up.
Until this morning.
Not literally with pen and paper.
This morning I’ve been lying in bed recording ideas for articles.
And I noticed something.
I’m doing it again.
I’m letting things come.
I’m not sitting at the computer thinking:
What can I teach today?
I’m not trying to write an article.
I’m talking.
I’m remembering.
I’m noticing.
One idea leads to another.
And because I’m not trying so hard to produce something, I’m hearing more of what is already there.
It reminded me of those Morning Pages.
And it reminded me how powerful this practice was for me.
You Don’t Have to Write Anything Good
This may be my favorite part.
Nobody has to read it.
Not even you, if you don’t want to.
You don’t have to be a writer.
You don’t have to have anything important to say.
You don’t need a topic.
You don’t need a beautiful journal.
You certainly don’t need to sound wise.
You can begin with:
I don’t know what to write.
Then write:
I still don’t know what to write.
And if the next thought is:
This is stupid.
Write that.
😂
The point, at least for me, was not what I wrote.
It was that eventually I stopped directing the traffic.
I stopped deciding which thoughts were important enough to come through.
And that’s when I began discovering what was underneath all the noise.
Morning May Not Work for You
I happen to love mornings.
That’s when I’m closest to my inner world.
That’s when I feel most home to myself.
But life is life.
You may have children who need breakfast and have to get to school.
You may have a dog standing beside the bed saying:
Excuse me. Your enlightenment can wait.
😂
You may have someone sleeping beside you.
You may have to get to work.
Maybe mornings simply aren’t yours.
That’s okay.
I’m not interested in turning something that can be freeing into another rule we’re supposed to follow.
Find what works for you.
Maybe it’s three pages.
Maybe it’s one.
Maybe it’s ten minutes.
Maybe it’s in the morning.
Maybe it’s at night.
But sometime, try giving yourself a little space in which you aren’t trying to accomplish anything.
Just write.
And see where you go.
I Think I’ll Start Again
This article has turned into a reminder for me.
I had forgotten how much those pages gave me.
Not because they made me a better writer.
They gave me a doorway.
A doorway out of the busy thinking part of myself and into a much deeper place.
My inner world.
And apparently, after all these years, that doorway is still there.
So I think it’s time for me to pick up a pen again.
Tomorrow morning, perhaps I’ll start with three pages.
And if the first sentence is:
This is stupid. I don’t know what to write…
Well…
I’ve been there before.
I know what can happen if I keep writing. ❤️