My daughter wrote something the other day that I thought was beautiful. She’s gifted with words as well as photography skill. I wish I could write like that.
I think there’s room for different styles of writing, of course. Hemingway’s spare prose sits on the same shelf of classic literature as Dickens’s flowery, descriptive passages. My words, though, are constrained, fearful of overstepping. They, like me and Goldilocks, aim to be Just Right. They miss out on a variety of experiences, looking for perfection instead. And like that juvenile delinquent wandering in the forest (where were her parents?), they blithely engage in breaking and entering, taking words, phrases, and (so shameful) clichés rather than doing the hard work of creativity to earn their own way.
A few years ago, I pondered what were my favorite things. Unlike Maria von Trapp, I had a tough time knowing this, which is true of many trauma survivors and people-pleasers. What’s your favorite (fill in the blank)? Blank stare. Sometimes it’s not even safe to have a favorite anything. Much better to mold your “tastes” to someone else’s palate. Less disappointment and fewer consequences that way. It took me a few weeks, but I began to write down lists of things I knew I loved. The first thing that came to mind was sunsets
The Scottish have a word for that magical between-time as the sun lowers in the sky and twilight creeps in: Gloaming. I love that word (add it to the list!) Yesterday, I learned a definition of the word “glimmer,” which for obvious reasons pairs nicely with “gloaming.” Glimmer can be used to describe an “anti-trigger,” something that lightens your heart, surprises you in a good way with its appearance, calming your soul rather than sending you into fight/flight/freeze/fawn. Magnificent sunsets are my glimmer. The glimmer of the gloaming grips my soul. Sigh. See what I mean about my boxed-in prose? There is such a thing as too much alliteration.
A part of me longs to describe a sunset rather than just admire it. Describing seems to be a kind of sharing with others in a way they can join with me in the experience. Yet when I try to do this, I get mired in my stodgy prose. What words, phrases, metaphors to use–to create, not “borrow” (aka, steal)? Sublime sunset… trite and alliteration again (ack!)
My husband is content to call every lovely sunset a “Lassie sky,” as it brings back memories of a paint-by-number he did as a kid. My creative daughter used to exclaim, when she was a little girl, “The angels are having a barbeque!” That implied simile brought both a smile and a nod. Yes, that’s what it looked like.
Sometimes, when I catch a glimpse (bite your tongue and DON’T alliterate here!) of deep rose splashed across the twilit sky at the end of the day, watching it fade into purple, then black darkness, I think of God’s promise to unite the New Heavens and the New Earth. For now, the darkness still comes, but then the light always returns to dissolve it. The beauty in-between, morning and evening, is a reminder, like the rainbow, that God always keeps His promises.
Maybe it’s also a reminder that it’s not so important to possess that beauty by describing it. Perhaps I’m just meant to marvel at it.
Hi Carmon, I like how you wrote of rose color which reminds me of roses . They are beautiful, yet they still have thorns. Kind of like experiencing life. Thanks for the reminder of God’s promises. It is so easy for me to lose sight of that sometimes. I love that saying “the darker, the dark, the brighter, the light.” Keep writing! It is encouraging.
So many metaphors God gives us to understand Him and ourselves better!
This is beautiful. Where might I find your daughter’s writing?