There is something about writing my noblest thoughts in the freshness of the morning air. I do not simply sit down and write. I first enter a space of silence.
Deep breathing and autogenic relaxation help me move into a place of deeper focus. Meditation music supports the silence within and creates an atmosphere in which thought can emerge naturally.
I raise my mind through prayer and visualization toward a plane beyond the immediate material world. Here, contemplation is born in a space temporarily free from physical distractions and attachments.
Perhaps this is where I encounter my humanness in an exalted form — where my mystical desires reach toward the divine, seeking spiritual connection, guidance and inspiration.
And then I listen.
Before bringing pen to paper, I try to remain in that space with an open mind. When I begin writing, there is only me, the divine space, the pen and the paper.
I do not query what surfaces.
I do not critique it.
I simply listen and record.
This distinction has become important to me. The work of lifting my awareness has already been done. Once something begins to emerge, I do not need to immediately decide whether it is clever, correct, useful or profound. Judgement would pull me back into the ordinary analytical mind.
There will be time for that later.
When the writing stops, I return. I reread what has emerged with ordinary consciousness. But even here, perhaps judgement is the wrong word.
Discernment feels better.
I can ask: Where does today’s writing fit? How does it relate to my life? Does it align with my being? Does it point toward my becoming?
In this way, free-flow writing becomes something more than journaling. It becomes a movement between two spaces: first receiving without judgement, then returning to reflect with discernment.
And this morning, in rereading what had emerged, I found something beautifully simple:
Joy and peace in walking lightly in divine wisdom.
