One of the ways I enjoy writing is to sit down with pen and paper (or keyboard and screen) and wait for an image to find me. A scene begins to unfold and I follow it. Usually after some time it feels right to leave the scene, and I end it. I've come to call these Glimpses. They are glimpse into some moments. Sometimes I do these while keeping a friend in mind or a question and others have found it helpful to explore the symbols and themes to unlock some insight within themselves. I thought I would share here one of the Glimpses that I wrote for myself. Perhaps it will have something for you.
I awake in the bottom of a boat, surrounded by wood. There is a gentle lapping against the side and a gurgle below. Pinpricks of light stream through holes in the floor above me. The gentle sway of the boat soothes.
I rise slowly, stretching arms overhead, then stand with hand pressed to the side of the hull to steady me. My bare feet pad their way across the floor to a ladder as I make my way above deck.
The sun beats heavily down, despite the early hour, and there is very little breeze. Not my kind of day, so I’m hopeful we will reach the forest soon, but the gentle rock of the relatively calm ocean is a nice reprieve from the previous storms.
I pick my way to the front of the boat to check our progress. The sun dances across the surface of the water. The early morning chill off the water will bring a couple more hours of pleasantness before the heat becomes unbearable.
I reach the bow and peer ahead, able to make out a speck of land. It won’t be long.
I watch that speck grow ever larger, salt tickling the skin on my arms and a light breeze tangling my hair.
Trees begin to loom ahead as we steer the boat into an inlet. I feel the temperature drop as the forest thickens overhead and a sigh escapes my lips. I close my eyes, tipping my head back to draw in a full breath of cool, oxygen filled air. Being on the water is soothing, but these trees - they fill me with life like nothing else.
I spread my arms in welcome as we drift deeper into this place. My ceremony is interrupted when we run gently aground. The boat will go no farther. I race below decks to pull on my boots and grab my bow. Into the forest we go.
I climb down the ropes and wade through the chilled water to reach the brush. I walk along the edge between beach and forest, seeking a path. A bit to the south I see it, a small pile of stones. Beside them, an overgrown path.
I begin pressing my way through. Energy within me is building up and out, eager to burst forth. Something awaits me ahead that I can merely sense. I pause, taking a moment for a deep breath, feeling the soles of my feet. I remind myself that rushing is unnecessary. What’s ahead is constant, I can feel it.
I take a moment to orient myself, seeing the twist of leaves as they surrender to the breeze. I hear a chatter of birds in the forest ceiling, smell a mix of warm earth and florals tickle my nose. Licking my lips, I taste the salt of the sea.
I make my way again on the path, this time more slowly, giving attention to each plant, each sound, each fragrance that I pass. The wildness calls to something deep inside me, pushing me gently forward. The buzz of insects fills my ears.
The brush clears and the path widens before me. A tree stands to my right and I know the right thing to do is to leave my things at its base. Beside it I lay my bow and arrows and then my boots. I look up through its branches and know that all I need is myself. I lay my clothes by its trunk and stand before it in a simple shift.
My dark hair tangles around my shoulders and my toes reach into the earth. The air of the forest feels alive on my skin. I place my hand to the tree in gratitude and humility as I pass by, stepping past the tree into the next leg of my journey. I don’t know what lies ahead, but I trust the forest to guide me.
I'd love to hear what you think. Does anything jump out at you?
Care to try writing your own Glimpse?
You can open your mind and grab on to any image that comes to you or I'll give you a start that ties in with the winter season:
Your walking outside after dusk. The crisp air is still yet bites at your nose. Your breath throws clouds of condensation into the space in front of you. The snow crunches under foot with each step and the brush of your foot as you lift it emits a gentle squeak. You wrap your scarf tightly around your face and shove your hands in your pockets, determined.
What happens next?
I want to read more! This is the kind of writing that they call "Show, don't tell." It is not easy to do so beautifully, yet it seems effortless and like didn't have to over edit because it mostly flowed from your vision. Inspiring!
Nice prompt to end your story which is very “imaginable” to me, but I’m a nature lover too, Kim!