Indents

©2014 Jeremy Lai

To throw a spear you have to pull your arm back.  To jump you have to bend down.  To swallow you have to chew.  To exhale you have to inhale. 

The opposite of what you want to do.  

Why do we have to do the opposite to do our intended act? Why is it necessary to ground down into the earth with our legs, toes and whole physical force before we can release and jump?

In writing this can look like:

Indent verb 1. (a line of text) or position (a block of text, table etc.) further from the margin than the main part of the text. 

noun 1. a space left by indenting a line or block of text

To indent before you paragraph.  To go inside the lines, before you can write out lines.

When a writer writes dialogue in the form of a book, they indent or press 'Tab' once.  This indicates a new speaker, a new thought or a new journey through words.  

      An indent.  Leaving space before the words begin.  Why is it that we have to leave space before we write?

There is a preparation in doing the opposite.

     When we leave that space for words, we grab onto a preparing, a propelling, a breath before we move.  We couldn't speak without inhaling and we couldn't throw a ball without pulling it backwards before we propel it forwards.

Taking time to prepare.  It's a stage that artists, creators, writers...anyone, can struggle with.  The in-breath is often the hardest, the out-breath, it follows as ease.  Every action has a reaction.

Let your action be the preparation.

The reaction of your work will follow like an exhale.