Recently, as I was writing, I noticed something repetitive about the phrases I was using. The word "seem" was making frequent appearances in the piece I was composing. The first time I used it, the word provided a good turn of phrase. The second time, it did the same. The third time I took note of its presence and then, by the fifth or sixth use I wondered why I seemed to be qualifying everything I was saying.
A quick glance at the dictionary revealed what I had already internalized.
Seem (sēm/)verb meaning to "give the impression or sensation of being something or having a particular quality."
A note below the definition said "used to make a statement or description of one's thoughts, feelings, or actions less assertive or forceful." Why was I softening the words I was writing?
I thought about the topic I was covering. It hadn't come easy. Instead of the natural process of waiting for inspiration to come, I had had to cajole the article from its place deep within me. I knew it would work, but it was a matter of making it come out naturally as if it hadn't been forced to work. In the end, I was pleased by the results and struck by what it taught me about my creative process.
After weeks of hard work and a busy schedule, the piece I was working on stood as a final hurdle before a true break could come. Whether I was doing so intentionally or not, my writing voice conveyed a sense of doubt and reticence. I was seeking clarity as much on paper as in my own being. All I could do to draw forth my truth as I knew it in the moment. Perhaps, that is where the "seem" came from.
Pausing as I wrote, I would pray and wait. It is in the silence of my heart and being that ideas make themselves manifest. The time and patience required is the nature of my process. What comes has the feel of an emerging creation, which I give thanks for whenever I have the privilege of working it out.
Putting the final words on the page, I smiled. A weight was lifted and I could go forth to rest and relax... to allow the renewal which creation feeds off of. This doesn't just seem to be the case; it is the case. In that space, new life can emerge. That new life brings a hope that is so exhilarating that I can't help but give thanks for what has been created and the process of creation. It is a secret beauty that renews my soul and before I can qualify this process I think of what might come next, reveling in what has been and hoping that these gifts given by God will continue to give abundantly into the future. That is my hope and so far, it seems to be working.