Daemon

I wonder sometimes where the words get stuck. Days and hours and even years can go by in that purgatory place. The wall around the moat around brilliance is impenetrable until one day when I am sitting on the hillside throwing rocks into a river. The bridge comes down and like knights riding into crusade...the words come flying at me. Not at me really, more like, through me.
I don't even think the meaning and concepts are my own. They definitely get filtered through me. The ideas, even the words are translated on their journey through my brain... and body. I would liken it to a possession. In that moment, I cannot do anything but write. Maybe its more like sneezing. Your body cannot do anything else when it is sneezing. I feel a surge of adrenaline and a flash of knowing. I believe in that moment I am pulling from a larger consciousness a language I subconsciously understand or a puzzle piece that fits. Those moments have happened to me many times in my life.
I know that I should recognize how lucky I am to have had even one moment like that. The problem is that they don't occur very often. I cannot make a moment like that happen, and believe me I have tried. A very specific constellation of ingredients has to be in place. That is why its so rare.

A. Lamb 4/2011