Being part of the world without shouting
on noise and creating space to think
This week had brought renewed creativity. I’ve joined the peaceful space that is Dawn Chorus. It’s a simple concept of bringing writers together to work for an hour before the nitty gritty of life begins. There is a prompt to use if other inspiration if scant, but more than anything this is a place of calm focus, a place to enjoy the simple act of making time to write.
This act has been fruitful. I’ve written two new poems, and a piece of creative non-fiction. They will need to be polished before they go on their adventures, but it feels good to write something new, and to simply give myself space to think. Being a writer is a solitary pursuit, and being a writer with a chronic illness brings an extra edge of invisibility.
Whilst working alone is one of the positives of the surprise redesign diagnosis with M.E. wrought in my life, there is something about working in community with others that brings a different dimension. Accountability feels like too strong a word – no one is relying on me to turn up each morning. Perhaps it’s simple community – the sense that we’re all working to reach a similar goal. A quiet synergy, even if just for an hour. This space to think is hard to pin down amongst the constant chatter and pull of needing to be visible, needing to be part of the world regardless of whether it is a space that feels welcoming. I often wonder how it must have felt to live with so little sound, without the constant hum of traffic or radios, odd clanking of another redevelopment, whirrs of gardens being tidied and the simple presence of so many people. This level of external distraction makes it difficult to simply be part of the world without shouting.
I have another opportunity to meet with writers this weekend. I’ve been invited to read one of my commended poems as part of the celebrations of Ironbridge Poetry Competition. I’m a little unsure how my health will be, but it’s an opportunity I want to take.
If I’m honest, I am more anxious about the social aspect of interaction and chatting than I am about reading my work aloud. I’ve never been the most natural in social situations (I’m a listener not a chatter) and since M.E. this has been worse. Being in a crowded room is difficult, sound and sight is magnified to almost unbearable proportion. I can manage this in certain circumstances, such as going to concerts, by using devices to combat hyperacusis and wearing sunglasses to minimise the impact of bright light. The difference with a more interactive situation is that I have to be present to hold a conversation – my usual coping method of detaching myself and focusing on one thing is not possible. Conversation is difficult and my awareness of how I am working outside of social norms is heightened. It’s a scary thing and a real barrier to this kind of social interaction. I’ll report back next week!
I’m hoping to work on a new poetry film this week – health has been a barrier to my schedule. I’m going back to old strategies of breaking things down into micro-tasks. It means everything is very slow and my patience is stretched, but it does mean there is progress. Unfortunately, I’ve always been more of a hare than a tortoise – I race into an idea with gusto. On the flip side of this I am easily startled, easily pulled up to a point of being too afraid to move. Working with visuals brings such a new dimension to the words that the edge of uncertainty soon fades and I become absorbed in the making.