It’s Saturday. The coffee is steaming, and the house is quiet. Because of that, I find myself listening inward. There is nothing I have to do right now – yet, there is something I want to do. The words are whispering. A post is on its way. I do not yet know what it will be about. However, I already know it wants to be written. And, of course, it wants to be written by me.
A Quiet Saturday Reflection
Today is one of those days when I simply listen. I listen to the sound of the keyboard, but also to the cat lying next to me, and to something inside me that is moving slowly – yet clearly. As a result, I begin to think about tomorrow’s post, the one that will be written by me. At the same time, I want it to land with you, the reader. Yet I also realize that I cannot know exactly how it will land with you – or what you might carry with you afterward.
I imagine that tomorrow’s post will grow out of just this – out of stillness, out of the pause.
A Letter, Perhaps?
Perhaps it will turn into a letter to someone I miss. Or, on the other hand, it might become a thought about why Sundays sometimes feel empty – and other times, sacred. Maybe I will write about love, the kind that no longer has room in relationships. Or perhaps it will end up somewhere else entirely – somewhere everyday, somewhere you might recognize yourself in.
When the Time Is Right
We will see. The words will come when they are ready. That moment arrives when I have untangled the thoughts and found the right feeling – the one that allows the words to simply spill out of me. That is when time stands still, and I step into my writing bubble. Eventually, that bubble will lead me to the finished post.
Often, that is exactly how my posts are born. Afterwards, when the piece is complete, I realize that an hour or two has passed without me noticing – and I have been living entirely in writing time.
Callout
What do Saturdays usually feel like for you? Are they a moment of rest – or just a short pause before the next demands?
Reflection – A Quiet Saturday Reflection
Some posts are born out of chaos. Others are born out of silence. This one is born out of waiting. And waiting, after all, is also a place.
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”Yesterday has already settled into history, tomorrow waits further ahead. But right now – this is where life is happening.” – Carina Ikonen Nilsson
It doesn’t matter that I do not know yet. I write anyway, listening to the thoughts that begin to form. And it is in that listening that I find my way home to myself.
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