X

Reflective Journaling and the Creative Imagination

November 9, 2020

Reflective Journaling and the Creative Imagination

By Amba Gale

My poetry corner is a sacred space for me, into which I enter every morning, before anything. There, I allow the poetic imagination to speak to me and to speak for me, and I listen, deeply, to whatever comes, and then take pen to paper. The touchstones and keepsakes, mementos, from my travels all over the world, remind me that wherever I go, I belong. Whether it is the colorful cup that looks like a Gaudi wall in a house in Barcelona, or coasters with fine precious stones cut by the men whose ancestors built the Taj Mahal, they bring me to being at home in the world.

Surrounded by photographs of spiritual teachers, a book of poetry by Mary Oliver, statues of Ganesh, the energy of the Hindu God who teaches through the bringing of obstacles our way, so that we may move through the pain of being human, and learn; or my tile of the whale leaping exuberantly out of the frothy waters, knowing he will go back down into the deep; or my red and white plant, always growing, beautifully, into new leaves, I come to rest here, to be at home here, to belong here, to be guided by the Voice that speaks, where I can be in conversation with something or someone that cannot be seen, but is yet very real.

I listen, and then I write whatever comes. And what I write is food for my soul.

I call this “Reflective Journaling.” I invite you to tap into your creative imagination as well, each day, in whatever way you do, in whatever way pleases you.

I would love for you to join me in a special conversation in January and February of next year, called Crossing Thresholds, a New Opening. It is a time in which we re-marry our own creative imaginations, enter into inner space, space in which we do not see, but hear quite well, our own poetic imaginations, leading us through these dark and troubled times, bringing us inner light. Each morning, I let go of my story from yesterday, and enter into a new story. Each morning I enter my world from this space of sacredness.

This is My Poetry Corner

In honor of Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin, whose poem, “This is my Prayer Room,” from his book, “Early Music,” inspired this poem.

This is my Poetry Corner.

This is where each morning

I light the candles

and watch the incense smoke

gently rise, and circle, to the ceiling of my room.

One straight thin strand of smoke, and then the circles. Who knows what invisible breath

shapes its climb

shapes mine

shapes yours.

For one who knows nothing,

it is enough

to be still, to let

the spirit-breath grow

shapes around me

that stir my senses

into wakefulness.

This is the corner in my home

where each morning

the silky smooth goodness

of the warm tea

settles into my body and sends

its healing goodness

to start my day.

This is my poetry corner

where my pen and pages of poetry

and blank white pages of poetry not yet born,

await me,

curious, wondering,

ready to discover what new surprise

will find them and fill them

with the soft, loving, wise, artistic voice

of my Muse.

Additional Posts

September 15, 2021

Let the Way Open

Last summer, on a quiet day, a sailboat made its way past the island in front of our cabin. It seemed to glide effortlessly as it caught the wind, its sails billowing. The energy of the universe, and of Grace, moves through us in just that way. However, to tap into it, we need to raise our sails, as well. We also (and this is hard for most of us) must surrender, or let go of needing to control, which need stops us from accessing that flow. Sometimes, it is hard to let go of control. And it is exactly…

August 31, 2021

Wounded Healer

In David Whyte’s book, Crossing The Unknown Sea, Brother David Steindl‑Rast says to him, “The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.” What an amazing thought to ponder. This is a story about wholeheartedness. In the heart of the forest is a wounded tree. This tree is located in the magical, mystical forest of Glenstal Abbey, in County Limerick, Ireland, and we were led there by one of the Benedictine monks, Brother Anthony, who guarded the forest with his love. The tree was a total surprise. My husband and I were journeying with Turas D’Anam, which in Irish, means “Journey of the Soul,” in…

Return to Blog >
X

Join Us!

Subscribe to receive my weekly blog, news, updates & more.