Rachel E. Watson

My favorite singer-songwriter Brandi Carlile's newest album, "The Firewatcher's Daughter" has been out for a week, and I've been immersing myself in it to fully absorb and convey its delightful flavor to you.
I can't say I have a favorite song on the album — at least not yet. But here's the one I think best embodies the feeling of being a wanderer who's still rooted to a place, connected to a family:

"Wherever Is Your Heart"

I think it's time we found a way back home
You lose so many things you love as you grow
I missed the days when I was just a kid
My fear became my shadow, I swear it did

Wherever is your heart I call home
Wherever is your heart I call home
Though your feet may take you far from me, I know
Wherever is your heart I call home

You made me feel like I was always falling
Always falling down without a place to land
Somewhere in the distance, heard you calling
It hurts so bad to let go of your hand

Wherever is your heart I call home
Wherever is your heart I call home
Though your feet may take you far from me, I know
Wherever is your heart I call home

Even when you're high, you can get low
Even with the friends you love, you're still alone
We always find the darkest place to go
God forgive our minds,

Robin Williams as Mr. Keating in "Dead Poets Society."

Last night, my husband spent some time reading poetry aloud to me. One of the things he read was Walt Whitman's tribute to Abraham Lincoln after his assassination, "O Captain! My Captain," which was made more significant to our generation by its mention in the film "Dead Poets Society."

The tears rained down my cheeks as I traveled 150 years backward into our nation's history and tried to imagine the heartbreak I'd feel if Lincoln had been my leader and I'd lost him. I commented to Adam that I again felt the transcendence of creativity as I cried over words written so long ago, by a man who is dead, for a man who died. That words should live so long in our collective memory and carry so much power truly is a beautiful mystery.

Do verses penned in our time hold such sway over our souls? For me, the answer is yes.

The other day, my mind was drifting into the past, and a song an old friend wrote came to me.

I googled the lyrics I could remember and was startled to find that there is no trace of the song anywhere online, despite the fact that it was recorded on an album of his from 10-plus years ago. I still have that album, and it's almost unlistenable because I've over-loved it through the years. The latter tracks are scratched beyond repair, which include the song I'm thinking of: "Grieve."

The only place I can play the CD is in my car; it skips too much when I try to use my computer. So this morning, I sat in my car in the garage listening to it over and over so I could transcribe the lyrics before it's totally unplayable.

Since the song's beauty and melancholy have stuck with me, I want to share the lyrics with you today, in hopes they will connect with your heart like they've stayed in mine.

I only wish I could share a recording of it, too.

"Grieve," by Titus Cole

This graphic was borrowed from the popular TV show, "Mythbusters."

"You are not at the mercy of The Muse."

So saith one of my new favorite authors, Vinita Hampton Wright, in her delightful 2005 treatise on creativity and the spirit world, "The Soul Tells a Story: Engaging Creativity with Spirituality in the Writing Life."

Her startling declaration above directly contradicts the novice, some would say amateur assumption underlying much of my writing life to this point: I'm helpless to create until inspiration comes.

No, Wright says. You must write each day and trust that the words will come when you place your hands on the keyboard.

There will be days when you're writing page after page of free-flowing prose. There will be days when it's time to stop, buckle down and edit what you've written. There will be days when much of what you write later lands on the cutting room floor.

But you don't ever need to wait for this phantom-like Muse to strike. It's not that The Muse is a lie. It's not that you won't still experience those lightning-bolt moments of clarity when the words and ideas rush to you unbidden, nearly perfect and whole with no alteration.

That's the beauty of this calling. You'll still get that rush. You'll still write paragraphs that flow forth from your fingertips with no warning. When the tide ebbs, you'll look back and marvel at words that can only be described as supernaturally delivered, because there's no way you could have written them on your own.

But the essence of Wright's wisdom is that the well can never truly run dry. Why? Because creativity is a divine gift, a godlike attribute bestowed by the Ultimate Creator to every single person. It's He who gives it, and His resources are endless, His universe is infinite, and His love for his creatures is perfect.

If we trust in that, the only responsible thing to do is come to the keyboard each day and write. If you fear the words won't come, pray for them. Plead for them.

But don't give up. As my fellow writer Andrew Rogers recently urged, go to that comfy chair, that austere office, that bustling coffee house, wherever it is you do the work of perseverance, and trust that the God who fitted you to your calling will be faithful to supply what you need.

Learn more

To learn about the practices, inspiration, beauty and dangers of the writing life, as well as how to more fully integrate your creativity and spirituality, read Vinita Hampton Wright's book, "The Soul Tells a Story." You can find it at Amazon or at Barnes and Noble.

Read more posts in my Storytelling Sunday series here.