When I was a child in Ohio, a friend and I used to lie on our backs on late summer days watching long skeins of blackbirds fly from horizon to horizon, high overhead, sure that these linear flocks streamed from a far-off factory whose entire job it was to crank out birds, one after one, without ceasing.
It’s the kind of image only a child could dream up, or perhaps a child-like author. To this day, whenever I see a large flock of grackles, starlings, or crows, I think back to those late summer days in my now-distant childhood when blackbirds were presumably gathering for migration, winging across the sky in long, loose-knit throngs. I’ve long left Ohio, and I’ve visited many places between here and there, but I’ve never found that imagined factory that belched flocks of birds rather than billows of smoke. I’d like to think, though, that this childhood fancy reflects an inherent faith in the infinite abundance of nature, a faith that stays with me still.
It perpetually amazes me that Nature can crank out leaves the way the late summer sky seems to manufacture birds. Every autumn, the sky in New England rains down as leaves, and every spring, green leaves return in unimaginable abundance. Just as there is no end to late summer skeins of Ohio blackbirds, there is no end to New England leaves in autumn. No sooner do you rake, bag, and haul them away than this weekend’s leaves are replaced by next weekend’s and the next and the next.
I’d like to think that thoughts are like autumn leaves or that words are like late summer blackbirds. Imagine, for instance, that words are like birds, and each letter is a feather. Right now as I sit here typing, blackbirds fly across the blank sky of screen, migrating from left to right, left to right. Each word is a bird that is followed by fellows, and these words like birds keep coming, one by one, as long as my fingers, like those of diligent factory-workers, keep moving.
When I was an undergraduate then graduate student in English, I used to worry that as a writer I might someday run out of words, but now I know from long experience that words are like those blackbird flocks I watched as a child: they never end. As fast as you can type, words will show up beneath your fingers, or if you write longhand, words will never cease appearing beneath your pen. I’ve learned from long practice that your mind, like an infinitely deep well, gushes and fills from hidden springs below: the more you write, the more you have to write.
With this implicit faith in creative abundance in mind, this year I’m participating in National Blog Posting Month, a conscious decision to post something–anything–on each of November’s thirty days. Last year, I made an informal commitment to participate in NaBloPoMo, and at the end of the month, I was grateful for the “nudge” the exercise provided.
The mind, like a world full of blackbirds, autumn leaves, and words, words, words, is more fertile than you know, and having an arbitrary requirement, like a public commitment to write and share “something” for thirty days in a row, sends you back to the bottomless well where ideas come from. In this month when we officially give thanks for brimming cornucopias and bountiful harvests, it seems appropriate to take advantage of (and blog) whatever plenty that surrounds us.
Click here for more information about National Blog Posting Month, a slightly more tame version of the National Novel Writing Month that sends so many writers to their keyboards in November.
Nov 1, 2009 at 4:18 pm
Oh, I see you *are* doing NaBloPoMo – good for you! I guess having done NaNoWriMo, NaBloPoMo is a lot less daunting (and probably more fun). I’m not planning to this year, though I did enjoy it last year. This has been a year of learning to say ‘no’ to make my life more manageable and enjoy the things I can make time for.
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Nov 1, 2009 at 4:23 pm
What an inspiring post, from the image of the blackbird factory to flight formations of words, you had me riveted! And inspired to jump right in to participate in the National Blog Posting Month!
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Nov 1, 2009 at 4:36 pm
NaBloPoMo is much easier than NaNoWriMo, Leslee: no word counts, you can post pictures, and at the end of the month, you have a month’s worth of shared posts vs. a Really Wretched Novel you wouldn’t inflict on your worst enemy! 🙂
Looking back on last November, there were many days when I relied upon quick picture-posts, with only a line or so of text. So this year, I figure I can do the same, especially since I’ve had practice Twittering.
Good luck, Maria, with NaBloPoMo! It’s always good to see more frequent posts from good bloggers, so I’ll look forward to whatever you have to offer throughout the month of November.
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Nov 1, 2009 at 10:17 pm
You know, those endless lines of birds made a huge impression on me as a kid, too, though I drew somewhat different lessons from them. It’s heartbreaking sometimes to read the accounts of the early explorers and realize how the eastern forest once teemed and pullulated with wildlife in a way we can scarcely imagine now. Now I scan the autumn skies and see only small flocks of blackbirds…
I do, however, share your faith in the limitless abundance of words. I look forward to reading!
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Nov 2, 2009 at 5:07 am
Under the right circumstances, more children would be lucky enough to have friends living nearby to have similar instances with looking up into the sky, seeing shapes, using their imagination to figure out fun things to do and accomplish, and reinforcing friendships by spending time with one another. In reality, the majority of children in this country life in urban areas where their parents either work multiple jobs or are set in their careers to the point of never being home enough to spend with their children. Instead of being under the wrong influences, more kids can have the chance at the experiences you’re talking about…especially taking the time out by looking at different types of leaves (or even studying them if you go one step further) by being enrolled in either a day or overnight camp away from such urban areas…where you can take in fresh air, be with an abundance of potential friends, and learn life lessons from adults and college students who are there to share their experiences.
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Nov 2, 2009 at 12:10 pm
I enjoyed the blackbird/type letter simile. I might have done the post every day exercise, except for the fact that today is the 2nd and I just found out about it, and besides, I am going to New Zealand and will lose a day, specifically, the 14th of November.
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Nov 2, 2009 at 2:15 pm
NaBloPoMo — ha! That’s really fun to pronounce! 🙂
I love the image of the factory churning birds out of its smoke-stack — or bird-stack, I guess.
Your post reminds me of the idea of false scarcity, which leads to the impulse to hoard and be stingy — not with just material goods but with our own gifts. We think we have to save stuff like words or affection or we’ll run out. Instead, we should be generous and let it all flow and replenish!
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Nov 2, 2009 at 3:08 pm
Dave, I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed those blackbird flocks: I’ve sometimes wondered if I’d exaggerated them in my memory, since I’ve not seen anything like them in recent years. But then again, I don’t spend much time lying on my back looking at the sky.
It’s interesting, Long Island Day Camp, that you assumed I didn’t grow up in the kind of urban environment that you describe, because my neighborhood, while possessing large lawns, had far more gang members than it did children. But your point stands regardless.
Anne, you can actually do NaBloPoMo any month; November is simply the most popular since it corresponds with National Novel Writing Month. But if December or January works better for you, you could sign up for NaBloPoMo then.
Steve, your remarks about false scarcity remind me of Annie Dillard’s remarks in The Writing Life (republished, with illustrations, in this lovely accordion-book) that writers should “give it all, give it now” when they are writing rather than holding stuff back for later. She, too, uses the metaphor of a filling well to describe creativity: it never runs dry, so don’t hold back.
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Nov 2, 2009 at 3:12 pm
Beautiful post. I think it’s very Ohio of you to have your first image of Nature’s abundance be a factory. That’s great. I used to ask my Mom how many words you had in your voicebox (I didn’t want to run out when I needed them). I like your answer.
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Nov 8, 2009 at 11:32 am
Yes, simply, lovely post; as were the honest posts that followed. Thank you.
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