thirty words (1)

My creative output has been distinctly limited recently: best laid plans of writing more and painting more during lockdown have not really come to fruition. The creative spirit, it appears, cannot be forced.

But then, prompted by a conversation with a friend, I wondered whether, in fact, perhaps it can. Not be forced as such, but be worked at. That there is discipline, as well as inspiration. 

So having closed my gratitude diary on Pentecost Sunday, I started a new regular commitment: every day, for the thirty days of June I would write something that was exactly thirty words long. There was, I knew, no point aiming for something too ambitious and setting myself up for failure, but that felt like a manageable challenge. Perhaps some of them will spark ideas of something else later. Perhaps not.

You don't have to read them, but for the record, here are the first ten:

1st June

We call them weeds, dismiss them as unwanted, these flowers growing by the wayside. But these bright splashes of colour, these signs of life, brighten up the monotony of grey.

2nd June

Sometimes there are, in fact, no right words to say. And in that moment of painful silence, what does one offer when we cannot reach out and hold each other?

3rd June

Shoulders hunch against the clinging drizzle as clouds hang, grey and heavy, in the air. But beneath the rain there is a new freshness to the countless shades of green.

4th June

A tongue stumbles over unfamiliar sounds. And yet, those words, stuttered hesitantly, somehow create a connection. Here, in this space where communication makes community possible, a new family is formed.

5th June

When dark glowering skies are threatened, these fragile rays of sun, even if they lack the warmth of previous days, feel somehow precious; and each sliver of blue, a blessing.

6th June

Wherever children’s innocent, unfettered laughter sparkles with the colours of dreams; joy and hope join hands to twirl and dance beneath the rainbow, to the irrepressible tune of life’s harmony.

7th June

The sounds of water should be the stuff of poetry, except, which words truly capture the eternal beauty of roaring waves, gently lapping tides, babbling streams, a tumbling waterfall’s song?

8th June

Remaining on the palette are the unwanted splashes of colour that didn’t make the final canvas. But, weighed down under confused, overlapping layers of paint: perhaps this too is art.

9th June

Like others before us who have built bridges across vast chasms of the unknown: what bridges will we dare to build, and towards which future will we direct their course? 

10th June

We build bridges to open the way towards undiscovered connections and adventures. We build bridges to stretch beyond our limited horizons. We build bridges to bring the impossible within reach.