Quiet Pages

Recovering from the Meh

The Power of Rest

I just finished another journal filled with snippets of scripture, quotes from saints, and the occasional inspirational words from writers and other artists. I started this journaling five years ago when I thought I would never be able to string two words together on the page, let alone a sentence. Writer’s block hit hard and I felt every ounce of creativity seep out from my pores. You can do the math about one of the probable reasons, but the truth is that I periodically go dark on the page. It flies against the common maxim that writers must have a constant flow of productivity. Sure, there are many writers who are prolific. And probably just as many who very clearly aren’t. I fall into that latter group, mostly because I’ve come to recognize my own cycle of productivity. For me, the best thing to do for my creativity is to put down the pen every once in a while.

These periods of writer’s block flow more like acedia, and I’ve recently noted the correlation between periods of spiritual listlessness and writer’s block. Is one responsible for the other? I don’t know the directional flow of this scenario, but for me, the two go hand-in-hand. I think it is because I journal my prayers. I laugh at using the literary label that my prayers are epistles, but there you go. Like little Venerable Nennolina, I write love letters to Jesus.

It has taken me a lifetime to reconcile with the idea that putting down the pen isn’t laziness but an opportunity for renewal. In many ways, it is an act of faith because I know that eventually I will make my way back to the page. Spiritually, it has been a battle against stacking on more and more devotions and setting a demanding schedule for prayer when I don’t feel like praying. And there’s the problem, if on the page I was just putting words down to hit a self-ascribed word count, prayer, on the other side of that coin, becomes rote. Scrupulous. A check-list to accomplish rather than relationship with the Lord. One Our Father prayed reverently trumps zipping through the Liturgy of the Hours while simultaneously compiling a grocery list and responding to the ding of my phone.

Seeking sacred silence becomes the antidote. It’s easier said than done, but I have found renewal in the silence. A walk in the woods. An activity far away from the usual things I do. Turning off all the electronic distractions that are on 24/7. All of that resets me. The remarkable thing about the re-set is two-fold. Somehow, time opens up and I do have time for the devotions I love, and this time in prayer becomes authentic relationship with God. And the pages fill up with endless ideas and content.

How does that happen? I think the short answer is recovery. When I rest, my body heals and refreshes itself, but so does my mind, and so does my spirit. Remember that we are called to rest on the Sabbath. Too often, my Sundays become the last-ditch effort to get everything done that didn’t get done before starting the next week. What if giving myself physical rest gives me energy to get through the week without having things pile on over the weekend? What if giving my mind rest opens the avenue for creativity? What if seeking silence in a sacred space opens my heart to hear the Lord?

My Favorite Recovery Strategy

For me, journaling, or rather, not journaling, is the first sign that I am in need of refreshment. It’s time to walk or sleep or sit in nature. It’s time to seek the silence in a dimly lit chapel and stop talking and making demands and instead listen quietly to what the Lord places on my heart. It is in this rest that I gather strength for the next thing.

So what can you do when, as a writer, you want to maintain the discipline of writing even when you aren’t producing it? I turn to the quote journal where I curate writing instead of producing it. I record inspiration, wisdom, recommendations, consolations, all from saints or scripture or other spiritual writings. It feeds my soul and keeps the ink flowing until one day, my creative voice re-emerges