Before I write, I take a breather.
It’s what I do to prepare myself.
Whether it’s a coming onslaught of words, or only a trickle that I sense, I take a breather.
Communicating to myself; to my head and to my body, that I am going to become engaged in the act of writing, and to put all other concerns aside. If only for a while.
Sometimes, it can feel indulgent.
But, as a writer, I cannot build up my work without sitting down to write.
No sitting down, no words.
No words, no body of work.
So, it all starts and ends with me prioritising the time to write.
Which, in itself, has been an interesting process; a wise teacher to me, especially since becoming a mother almost ten years ago.
In this time, I have learnt so much about myself, and I have become increasingly comfortable with not meeting the expectations of others. So that I can write.
Before children, I had no concept of this, I don’t think.
It’s not that I am happy if I let others down. It’s just I no longer beat myself up about it. I don’t even absorb the demands. Because I know I am doing all that I can, in that sense, and I am at my limit.
I make sincere offerings with love and, take it or leave it, I am doing my best.
There’s certainly an element of not wanting to look back and regret the time that I didn’t take for myself (and it doesn’t need to make sense or be of value to anybody else), but, more than that, I feel I have no choice: as my writing, much like my yoga practice, keeps me sane!
As a mother and home-maker, making it all work means writing around the edges of my day-to-day tasks.
It means putting my children and my motherhood first, and then, second to that, my writing.
I try to be a ‘present’ mother, only doing one thing at a time, and so, when I am with them, they have my full attention.
Make no mistake, I am a mother first, before I am a writer.
But, if they are otherwise engaged - even if only for 10 minutes - you’ll find me writing like a wild thing.
When they are at school (and my tasks are complete) is when I can forget my role(s) and put pen to paper. Wholeheartedly making use of all those stolen moments, taking notes within the margins of my life.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
So, for me, applying the idea of Sankalpa and Mantra to my writing is, I think, about acknowledging the way that I feel when I am both mothering and writing.
Reinforcing the idea that the way I do both is good enough and will, if I follow my heart, lead to what is meant to be. I really believe it.
Both are my life’s work.
I know I am fortunate to feel fulfilled in this way because I prioritise the right things, and I am eternally grateful.
My Sankalpa and Mantra will, therefore, be about reminding me of this for those moments when I may wobble.
How about you, my fellow writer:
How does the practice of writing fit in to your life?
Would you like it to be different, and if so, in what way?
How can you use your feelings about what writing means to you, to create a personal Sankalpa and Mantra for the year ahead?
I decided to offer this first issue to everybody on a complimentary basis.
Going on from here, TYL For Writers will be a bonus for those who support The Yoga Letters financially, with much appreciation and thanks.
If you would like to receive TYL For Writers and can support my work in other valuable ways (such as by commenting on posts and sharing with others) then please feel welcome to contact me to ask for a comp subscription.