To get the creative juices going, I've taken to 'morning writing'. The idea is simple: Write a stream of consciousness for a maximum of 10 minutes describing something you can see. At the start of the day, sitting with my morning coffee, it immediately gets the Awen flowing, ready for the day ahead. It reminds me that anything can inspire the flow of Awen. I'd thoroughly recommend it. What you write doesn't have to be groundbreaking art; it just needs to be a handwritten poetic description that includes the senses.
This morning, I looked out into the garden and saw the Hellebore in full flower. Here's what I wrote down:
Hellebore, rejoicing in the morning sun, dew-wet flowers calling out into the fresh March air with the promise of nectar to the sleepy, newly awoken, Bumble Bee. And there you are, wings buzzing, flying like a black and yellow striped helicopter through the crisp early spring air. You see the Hellebore, and you are smitten. You fall in love and surrender.
Drawn to the centre of the creamy pale, yellow embrace, you eagerly taste the sweetest of gifts, and she gives gladly - her head bowing, nodding, with the weight of your delicate body. You move deeper, into the flower, giving and receiving, receiving and giving. Then you fly on to your next lover.
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