Water, Fire, Air, Earth

Sometimes my thoughts will fill an empty page like water. The words spreading across the emptiness like a flood. I’ll be saturated in thoughts. Other times my thoughts burn to a crisp before my pencil even touches the page, smothered in heat, fading like smoke.

Sometimes my words are passionate, a blaze of heat that sears across the page, line after line. My words are the lantern in my hand, illuminating the way. Other times I feel like my words are lost at sea. My inspiration submerged, a treasure I can’t dive far enough to see. That, or I’m lost at sea and my words are on some faraway island.

Sometimes my thoughts are just a bump of wind, a tiny bit o’ pinch, to let me know they’re there. Ebbing and flowing, intangible air. They come and they go. Other times my thoughts are an earthquake rocking my perception. I’ll write until I can ground my thoughts into something solid, until they become a stone I can throw or a house I can enter.

Sometimes I think my words are a tornado. A force that breaks through every barrier, lifting everything it touches to new heights. I feel like I am flying. I write with the speed of wind before I crash. Other times my words are dirt. I ask myself what’s the point? I have to look hard to find anything alive when my words feel like the ground beneath my feet, or I have to put in the work to plant something that will flourish.

Reflection: I was thinking about the way inspiration works when I scribbled this. I think the natural elements are one of those subjects that can easily be used positively or negatively. It reminds me of how the writing process can feel a lot like working with and against myself. At times writing feels inevitable. It’s like I am propelled forward by a force of nature that’s snatched me up. Any effort that goes into the phrasing, plotting, or particulars of it all is background noise. Other times, writing is like trying to think during a natural disaster.