The Artist You Buried Is Still Alive
Last week I told you I was going through Cameron’s twelve weeks. Fifty of you showed up in the comments and said you’re coming with me. So let’s go.
I’ve been doing the pages for a few weeks now.
Three pages. Longhand. Before coffee. Before email. Before anyone else’s voice gets into my head.
Some mornings it’s just workout splits and meal prep for the kids. One morning something about my dad showed up uninvited and filled six pages.
After the Cameron article went up, the comments gave me intel I wasn’t expecting. It wasn’t just “thanks for this.” It was “I ordered her book.” “I started the morning pages today.” “I haven’t made anything in 20 years and I teared up reading this.” “I’m coming with you.”
You’re already moving.
Morning Work is a 12-week series.
One post per week, starting Monday. Cameron’s framework, translated for us. Everything you need will be in the emails. You don’t need the book.
Cain and Moses and Mary Magdalene ship after Easter. Unsealed Archives and The Nazarene aren’t stopping. Morning Work is just the next stage.
Each week I’ll write about what’s happening in my own pages, what I resisted, what the Accuser whispered. Then the week’s theme, one or two exercises, and an open question.
I'm doing it with you.
Two tools. That’s all you need before next week.
1. Morning Pages
Three pages of longhand writing, first thing in the morning. Every day. Whatever comes out. Don’t read it back. Don’t show anyone. Just fill three pages and close the notebook. Cameron says they’re a direct dial to God. No operator required. I believe her, because something on the other end of that line has been waiting for me to pick up.
2. The Artist Date
Two hours, once a week, alone. You and something that delights you. A walk. A museum. A bakery where you sit with a pastry and a window and nothing to do. A used bookshop. A park. A river. No companions. No agenda. No feeling guilty for ‘wasting’ time. Pages empty you out. The Date is how the well refills.
A notebook, a pen, and two hours you’re not willing to give.
I’ve spent the last year writing about people who were silenced. Kennedy. Patton. Jackson. Nixon. Tesla. Assange. (those last two are coming soon).
And I’ve spent it writing about people who created in the wreckage. MacDonald. Cash. Lewis. Cameron.
The exposés and the lineage are the same fight at different altitudes. Out in the world, the machine takes down people who see too clearly. And in your own mind, a voice does the same thing every time you want to create something.
Don’t even bother.
Just stay small.
What do you have to say?
Who do you think you are?
If you felt something stir when you read last week’s piece. If you ordered the book. If you’ve already started writing and didn’t tell anyone yet.
Come with me. We start Monday.
Get a notebook. Get a pen. I’ll send you everything else.
<3 EKO
See you tomorrow.
I love you.
I’ve been doing them for the last couple of years. I’m looking forward to seeing where you take this.
At this juncture of my life, I needed this. And someone like you to read. Thank you, thank you.
Love you too.