ritual

[note #47]

Friends,

I took a walk through Greenwood Cemetery today, something I’ve been meaning to do for years. It felt like the right place for these dark days (or are these the days of light?). I found the monument above near Basquiat’s grave—head bowed, hand’s outstretched, each pointing toward a book. Today, it felt like more of a warning than a memorial. I bent down to see the face, but there was nothing under the hood. It felt like it was telling me not to spend my whole life inside a book.

Billy Collins, when asked what the hardest part of being a poet was, answered, Figuring out what to do with the other twenty-three hours in a day (I’m unsure if this is his actually quote, or simply apocryphal).

Either way, I know what he means. When I say I write every day, I mean for half an hour—an hour at most. This is for the gathering phase of a project, when you need to exist outside of language for as long as possible, and not lose yourself in the book. At some point (for me it’s after about two years of gathering), I need to immerse myself in the project and write all day (pray without ceasing / thessalonians 5:17). By “all day” I mean about three hours. More than that and I start to lose myself, and if I lose myself then who will write the book? In this final push, I need more than ever to make sure to take care of myself, to do whatever it is I need to stay in shape to put in those three hours (workout, 12 step, therapy, sleep, friends, meditate).