The sound of the blowing wind made the caves sing.

What does it mean to write a good text?
What qualities must a good text have?
Bodhilama was contemplating.

"For me I can't plan what I write.
Even if I know the qualities. They don't help me that much.
Because I just write in a flow.
I don't like to think to much when I am writing.
That is not fun for me. Flow is more fun.
Yet, I need something to get the flow going.
Something that gets the stone rolling."

Even though he was a very spontaneous writer, he needed something to start with.
It was like growing vegetables. He needed a seed.
From this seed his creativity could blossom.

"Let's see, what's on today?"

How he came up with a topic varied greatly.
Sometimes it was a conversation with someone that sparked an idea of what the atmosphere of a text could be.

"Potatoes or tomatoes instead?"

On another day, he just sat down and wrote the first sentence, just like that.
Everything developed from this sentence. The seed was the first sentence.

"But we're actually in salad season right now."

He also had those moments when he didn't know what to write.
It was a hard time for him to get creative..
The interesting part was,
then he had a hard time finding a seed & wrote about how hard it is to find it.

"Or should I go the fruit route and plant some watermelons?"

But it didn't matter what he wrote, the key was to find a seed.

"I think I'll leave the field for now and just plant some ground cover."

His relationships with writing was complex.
He loved going through his old texts and reading what he had written.

"Aaaah, look at my flourishing garden. Those big pumpkins are fabulous."

Yet, there was also a side to writing that he did not like.
The process of writing & creating.
Sometimes it felt so tedious.

"When I think about what it took to plant it.
No one would see the work I put in to make those pumpkins so big."

And there were those moments when he got so distracted from what he actually wanted to do.

"Seeing all of these pumpkins I actually getting hungry."

He could only think about this one thing.
And suddenly something else became much more important to him

"Soup? Some Miso soup?"

He could dive deep into poetry.
And the next moment he would start chopping wood.

"Actually something fried. Like Chickpea balls."

Only to change his mind and go for a swim in the lake.

"I going to have a potato salad today."

Sending Flowers,
Bodhilama

These are the Letters of Bodhilama, a guy who lives in a time of transformation.
A guy who felt the urge to write, because nothing else made any sense.
A guy who is a student, teacher & creator of (wild)Planet108.
A solar punk finding his way on the game's journey of life.
Subscribe to become part of the stories he tells.
Subscribe to learn his insights he holds.
Subscribe for the sake of it.

©️ All rights reserved to Bodhilama