Silent Gems

A writer writes. - Sahara Special, Esme Codell

Maybe so. 

My earliest recollection of the desire to write (perhaps with a capital "W") was of writing, illustrating, and binding my own books when I was a little girl. The desire has stayed with me, through all of school life and beyond. Writing for academic purposes has come easily for me, and I am thankful for that. But it was not primarily for academic, or utilitarian purposes that I wanted to write. I wanted to write poetry, particularly - or just to write poetically. Then I wanted to write books. When I rediscovered children's books, I wanted to write them. I wanted to write beautifully. 

Why then have I, through the years, written so little? I have thought about writing, read about writing, and read others' writing - all at the expense of writing, or so it seems. Had I chance to reencounter those days, surely I would do differently? Perhaps not, surprise, surprise. Were those missed opportunities? I did once see them as such. Yet perhaps I have gained another perspective. Those days, even those days spent not writing, are part of my journey. They colour and paint my current world view, desire, and experience. They are to be treasured, rather than treated as dross. 

So, let these written words be a tribute to those non-writing days, which are gems in their own right because:

.: I see now that writing is indeed a worthy, complex craft. Words are powerful, and hence worthy. Writing is complex, and hence should not be a task undertaken flippantly. Gemstones are weighed by their worth, and so are words.  

.: Writing was pressure, let that pressure now yield its treasure. School’s unrelenting message was, “write well, be rewarded.” And though that meant that writing was not pure pleasure then, it is the measured incisions of the master gem cutter which bring out their beauty.   

.: Gems are measured by their clarity, and so are words. Poetry would lose its essence, if not for the generous space holding words apart. In writing, many words may mar the writer’s message. Hence it’s not the volume of words that matter, but the message.   

.: Yet-to-be gemstones remain hidden deep inside the earth for years and years, working simply on becoming, have shown me the value of silence, waiting, and just perhaps, keeping meaningfully occupied in the meantime. 

Most of all: 

I am reminded again that I am to be the bearer of the message, not its originator. And if so, I do not alone determine what I should write or when. I am to be attentive to that Voice, sometimes still and small, sometimes cedar-breaking powerful. And when He says, “write!” Then, must I.