I love the blank page; it makes me pause.
I love that it is full of possibilities. I love that before the keys make their mark there is a moment of reflection where an idea begins. I love that words and ideas must work together to find a way to breathe life into each other. I love to see if the words land with ease and confidently stand in lines to hold up the ideas for others to see; or if they will need to be pulled around the page to find their place, jostling for room, before the ideas have their place and their voice.
I love the blank page. I love the potential for an unfolding narrative that no one else has seen before and I love the intimacy of how the blank page offers itself to be a place for a thought to rest.
However, for me, the blank page is less about writing and more about finding something valuable in the million thoughts I have each day. We all have ideas that swirl and gather, a murmuration of emotions driven by experiences and feelings. To capture a single thought and to let it rest and be seen, is so much more about discovery than about writing. It is a chance to reveal and honour that thought, to weigh its value and to respect and understand its place in my world. This is the privilege a blank page offers to me; it is an opportunity to discover something of myself, and to allow a thought to become a feeling. It is why I love the blank page.
This week, like so many weeks before, has been a clattering din of excitable noises. It is easy to get caught up in the commotion and only add to the noise. A working week is all too often peppered with phrases like “back-to-back meetings” and “sorry, I just haven’t had time to prepare.” Diaries that look like packed commuter carriages with no room to think or breathe as we travel through our non-stop days.
If we are not careful there is no time to stand and stare, as WH Davies invited us to do in his sumptuous poem.
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?
No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows:
No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began?
A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.
Isn’t it glorious? I especially love “No time to wait till her mouth can enrich that smile her eyes began.” What a beautiful way to reflect on something as simple as wanting to relish both the smile and where the smile began.
Our non-stop world is made for us by every relationship, interaction, word and deed. We inherit yesterday’s bundled-up chaos and have to make some sense of it today. The clattering din will not subside and there is no time to let our souls catch up with our swirling minds. It is imperative therefore that we find our way to pause; to stand and stare.
A pause is to notice, for kindness and for caring’s sake. A pause is a gift to ourselves of a space for a thought to rest. It is a moment to be our true selves, where we may put down the weight of the world and rest our weary cares.
As you now know, one of my pauses is the blank page, but what are yours?
When we know the pauses that work for us, it is easier to find them, trust them and to use them; and it is easier to love how they make us feel. A time set aside, made by us, for us, where the din subsides.
I spoke to someone this week who has been through a dreadfully undermining time and now needs a little help to find a new job. She is still spinning from all that has happened, but she was also anxious to begin finding her new role. She asked me how I could help her to find it; “the first thing we should do” I suggested respectfully, “is not to look for a new job, but to look for the pauses that help you to find you.”
Take care. Paul xx
