It is Monday morning. This morning, I wake up and write. My wife is in the other room sleeping. It is not every morning that I make it to my desk to write. As I start this day off focusing on my art practice I can feel small pangs of guilt and doubt creep in, “what about all those other mornings I didn’t wake up and write.” I tell myself, “you won’t wake up every morning and write, so why do it today.” I meet these corrosive thoughts with my new commitment to grow my artistic practice without punishment and self-torture.
I listen to Bjork’s Hyperballad several times this morning. It is playing on a YouTube video somewhere behind this word document holding my words to the front of the screen. Bjork is one of my favorite artists. Whenever I drift away from my writing practice, I listen to her song Hyperballad. It is part of my journey towards recommitting.
Bjork begins the song by setting the scene. She wakes up every morning, walks to the edge of a mountain, and throws small metal objects from the top. From listening to Bjork’s music or the interviews with the worldwide network of musicians who respect her work, I know that Bjork is obsessed with sound. From the top of the mountain, she watches each object fall to the bottom and listens to the sounds they make as they crash. No doubt, this exploration of sound is her morning art practice.
Bjork goes on to sing, “I go through all of this before you wake up, so I can feel happier to be safe again with you.” These lyrics remind me of the importance of my writing practice. It is my process of throwing words around, and listening to the crashes they make, that allows me the peace and clarity to approach the rest of my day.
I listen to Bjork’s Hyperballad several times this morning. It is playing on a YouTube video somewhere behind this word document holding my words to the front of the screen. Bjork is one of my favorite artists. Whenever I drift away from my writing practice, I listen to her song Hyperballad. It is part of my journey towards recommitting.
Bjork begins the song by setting the scene. She wakes up every morning, walks to the edge of a mountain, and throws small metal objects from the top. From listening to Bjork’s music or the interviews with the worldwide network of musicians who respect her work, I know that Bjork is obsessed with sound. From the top of the mountain, she watches each object fall to the bottom and listens to the sounds they make as they crash. No doubt, this exploration of sound is her morning art practice.
Bjork goes on to sing, “I go through all of this before you wake up, so I can feel happier to be safe again with you.” These lyrics remind me of the importance of my writing practice. It is my process of throwing words around, and listening to the crashes they make, that allows me the peace and clarity to approach the rest of my day.
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