Waiting for a word,
Hands poised to write,
Heart quiet to hear.
Writing is a
mix of prayer and meditation. It is a
way for me to listen to God and a way for him to talk to me. When I don’t write, I am depriving myself of
fellowship with the Spirit.
It is easier
to start with a shining phrase dropped into my consciousness, a type of celestial
writing prompt. But lately the shining
phrases have been absent, so to write I must do the harder thing: sit at the keyboard with a blank page opened and
no ready phrase to fill that first line.
I am glad
for my flutes, for practicing them is another kind of meditative prayer: all heart, all soul, no words. It doesn’t necessarily matter what I am
playing—Suzuki, scales, solos—because they all involve the purity of
sound. Learning to produce rich tones
instead of the breathy, diffuse, colorless tones of the past has required quality
instruction from my flute teacher and practice time from me. Now, when I play I am pleasantly surprised
and often moved by the sound that pours out of the instrument. I am performer and audience
simultaneously. The deepest longings of
my heart and soul soar through the flute.
Writing and
music express my inmost being and open me to the being of the Holy Spirit. The triune God supplies sound and rhythm when
I practice the disciplines. You see,
both writing and music are disciplines of practice. Investing daily time yields blessing far
beyond my effort.
This page has filled, and it is ready
to be revised. Right now, though, I need
to get ready for church.
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