Waiting for a Spark to Ignite

Waiting For The Spark  - A song about the struggle to write, and then realizing that this in itself is fodder for a song.

And I'm Waiting For The Spark
Spark to set my mind aflame
Waiting for the Spark
To burst to flame
                                                                      by Gayla Drake Paul




Last Saturday night I had the opportunity, no privilege, to hear Gayla Drake Paul  (http://www.myspace.com/gayladrakepaul) in an acoustic concert in Ames, Iowa.  What a fabulous guitarist.  Her songs were hit and miss, her voice mediocre - but she had great playing skills, so much so that it was easy to forgive any of the songs that missed the mark in either melody or lyrics.  Now I'm a critic.  What I will give her kudos for, is the fact that she's out there doing this at all.  It was clear to see that she was passionate about her music.  I admire that even though she has a day job (not sure what it is) she still spends hours and hours and hours and hours . . . . . . writing songs, playing music, and connecting to people who do the same.  She has albums out, she has connections with notable musicians, and she's putting herself and her music out there on a regular basis.

In her song Waiting for the Spark (see above) she sings about writer's block and the difficulty with coming up with music and lyrics.  Finally, she realizes the struggle is the product.  File this under "things I know but chose to ignore."  This one line, waiting for the spark, from this mediocre song stayed with for the whole rest of her concert.  Of course, me being me, my mind wandered to the metaphor she put out there.  I realize there are so many of us standing around, waiting for a fire to ignite.  Some people have gathered wood, maybe some kindling.  Some have created a great pyre*.  Other's might be looking around saying, "that tree over there could be cut down, but I'm too tired, weary, sick," or whatever.

I am one of those who have built a pyre.  Actually I have a few pyres.  And of course, I have some small piles of sticks.  I also have my eye on a few trees that are growing and green, but I realize that one day they will have the potential for pyre building.   Here are my pyres, small scraps of kindling, and growing timber that is too green to burn - in no particular order.   Don't try to guess which is which:

Song writing
Musical performance
Spiritual Directing
Writing a book about Molly
Curriculum writing
Poetry writing and performance
Running a marathon
Sewing for profit
Owning a joint of some sort
Traveling the world
Hiking the St. James Trail
Writing a fiction novel based on life experiences
Winning the lottery
Knitting, knitting, knitting
Seeing god in me and everyone
Gardening
Getting a tattoo
Getting to sleep before midnight most nights
Living in a home that has no mortgage and no major repair issues

What impressed me about Gayla Drake Paul was this - it's apparent what at least one  of her piles of kindling have ignited.  Along with the metaphors about what could catch fire, I also let myself conjure these images of the people who have the piles of combustibles.  Some, like Ms. Paul, are working, working, working - every day - to get the spark to ignite.  They have the flint, strike, strike, striking.  Once in awhile a spark leaps from the flint and catches the kindling, or not.  Then there are people who have gathered small or great pyres and they are just hanging out - waiting.  Waiting for lightening to strike, waiting for someone else's fire to throw a spark on theirs. waiting to take sparks from unattended fires, waiting for the earth to spin dangerously close to the sun and ignite!  Of course the waiters, the ones who don't have the time or inclination to strike their flint (with the exception of a very few people, we all own flint) usually do have the time and inclination to stand around and blame and complain.  Can't you just hear them?  "No fair - lightening never strikes me!"  or  "My arms aren't strong enough to keep striking the flint."  perhaps "Someone took my good flint."  and of course the ever popular "I'm allergic to flint."  maybe  "My parents gave all the best flint to my brother."  Sadly some may say  "My tears keep the flint too wet."  And just as sadly,  "I'll start striking my flint tomorrow."  Or, perhaps they are just silent.  The people who are always striking a flint will not wake up when they are very old and say, "dam!  Why didn't I at least try striking the flint every now and again?"  

Time to go - I think I see a little smoke rising from one of my pyres . . .

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*I include the following link lest you fear that I have in mind that someone needs to be sacrificed in order for my dreams to be realized.  Not so:

Definition of PYRE

: a combustible heap for burning a dead body as a funeral rite; broadly : a pile of material to be burned <a pyre of dead leaves>