Jacob van Ruisdael:
Landscape with Figure Resting Under Tree by Stream
(not dated)

" … I can start Ruminating onto a page instead …"

Most mornings, I spend some time Ruminating before I begin writing. Ruminating seems distinct from merely thinking, for it occurs almost wordlessly. My usual narrator idles, and I seem to sort through my thoughts without classifying or, Heaven forbid, analyzing motive or meaning. It almost seems like dreaming. The theme for that day's writing usually manifests during these sessions while I sort out my emerging feelings and opinions. Old wounds might revisit to display themselves, as well as old successes. Anything's allowed. The rest of the house continues sleeping while I engage in this grand resorting.

I finish refreshed and often inspired. If I felt tired before I began Ruminating, I feel much more rested. If I felt well rested when starting, I feel more aware, as if I'd expanded my perception to include much more than just the room I had been inhabiting. The cats will have become restless by then, anxious for their breakfasts and a trip outside after the long night inside. They have business to resume, and I put away dishes The Muse left to dry beside the sinks after cleaning up after last night's supper. The hearth will still feel warm. The house will have started readying itself for another morning's occupation.

Ruminating does not seem like a linear experience but more like slipping sideways through scenarios. Maybe I'm just daydreaming, watching videos I produce for my edification. I follow threads that tend to follow dream logic, which means no apparent logical progression at all. They start anywhere or nowhere. They proceed to wherever they seem to choose. I never know what they mean, and I rarely even attempt to make finite meanings of them. They seem to be more atmosphere clips, less for understanding than feeling. How I feel when those Ruminations run through me seems to be the extent of their purpose for being. I am not learning from them, either, though they often prove inspiring.

Very little of their content sticks except for the inspiring phrase that will turn into that day's writing theme. Even that arrives almost devoid of meaning, as a provocateur, a spare presence. Later, once I return from my Ruminating, I will set to work to make meaning of that visitor. It tends to teach me what needs writing that morning and I feel grateful for the stimulus. Who knows how I'd ever get started were it not for those visits?

The cats keep their distance whenever they find me in my Ruminating trance. Molly might try to rouse me but usually finds me impossible to move. I often return to find her camped on the top of the back of my chair, her tail lashing my hair, a presence I'd been unaware of just the previous moment. She'll lead the procession into the kitchen, where I'll break out the kitty treats and feed her on top of the kitchen table, a violation of some local ordinances I routinely defy. I turn over that morning's seed while loading the stovetop espresso maker. I know how to proceed by then, though I will not yet understand just how to begin. I'm learning that I start by just beginning. Once my coffee's perked, I confidently crawl up the staircase and get to work, always in the dark. When I've found a suitable graphic, I've usually found a story to match. Then, I can start Ruminating on a page instead of just in my head.

©2024 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #iAlogue