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July 25, 2016
Morning Walk - Two Weeks
One generally does not begin a writing with a title in place. Titles generally arise in the writing, in the thoughts placed on the page. There are exceptions. It may work, or not. Like adult underwear, depends.
Life, of course, is always such a vein. The blood running in veins may always travel their courses, though never the same cells. So it is, one never knows what going out the door, or perhaps even staying in will occur within each particular day, hour, minute, and on..
For these past two weeks the trouble of rain coming up late in the afternoon has whetted the appetite of one dog, and her relaxed companion, to get OUT. You know, leave the house and taste the air. The one with two legs, and a slight limp hardly noticed, unless and until one is tired and worn, is the companion.
For the four legged one, it is an aromatic adventure. For the companion, it is mostly an adventure in sight, and sometimes, sound. Slim pickings these days, with the rain and all. Brownie barks her disapproval in the evening, to no avail. No desire to walk the rain. Sometimes yes, but right now, mostly no.
Ever the human, ever fickle. It is revealed, the writing of poems of the last few days has stilted my writing. Short sentences. See?
Anyway, the last two weeks have managed to yield a few images. As this is the Morning Walk there are a few missing that this writer rather likes. This shooter is concerned with abstract images of mundane, ordinary, items most of us pass by and never give a second glance. At the moment finding those items in nature is a game of hide and seek. The harder this shooter seeks, the more images hide. A conundrum. Like that word, conundrum, descriptive.
A few have exposed themselves in all their naked glory. Part of the goal is to shoot what one cannot recognize at first. The mind, relaxed and unfettered, may turn ordinary into extraordinary. The intention when galvanized sees ordinary as something unusual. It is harder than it looks.
Those abstracts will appear in an Afternoon Walk. Tomorrow? One never knows about tomorrow. One can never count on it. So life moves in a flow. Like a river. It is all water but it is never the same water. Take a breath, exhale. Now go.
Ah, one word, three times; practice, practice, practice. One must enter a groove of sorts, a mind set, a habit of looking and not seeing the ordinary in the ordinary. Riding a wave, here. This is the goal, to write it concisely, and smooth the understanding with as few words needed.
One might consider writing poems more often interspersed with regular structured writing. Bradbury, it has got to be. No one else has influenced me lately, even with reading other authors. Go figure.
One has been writing, but nothing for regular consumption. The words of the past two weeks are shown to only one. The loved one.
This started with Two Weeks. Guess what? it has ended with two weeks. Bringing the writing full circle, as designed.
I am grateful for your visit. Thank you.