How can a writer possibly describe a moment like this? Julia seems so innocent, so calm, so at peace with herself and her world. Words would break the spell. I simply can’t find the words. And I can’t help but think that any words I choose to describe this moment would fall into an empty void.
Zen is wordless. Babies are wordless too. Maybe they know something we don’t. Have you ever wondered what goes on in a baby’s mind? And wished you could remember being a baby? I think all babies are totally right brain creatures. They haven’t eaten of the fruit of knowledge. They aren’t logical (yet).
When we sit down to write, logic paralyzes our creativity. We worry about grammar and spelling and our logical inner critic doesn’t like any of our ideas. What if we could approach writing with the innocence of a baby?
All writing begins within our creative selves. When we wonder, when we sit musing quietly, ideas bubbling and whirling in our minds, we are writing. When we sit at the computer, fingers on the keyboard, maybe we’re just dictating — writing done.
What if babies could write? What would they say? What if we could return to the innocence of Julia? What would we say?