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Three Morning Walk and seven Afternoon Walk
October 09, 2016
Another week fleeted passed on Time’s Arrow. How shall we hold onto Time? Living each moment as a rich endowment of our lives.
Juices flow the mind in and out of thoughts, yesterday, today and tomorrow. It seems thoughts can only be held like a fog. One can see fog, one can walk in it, one can feel the moist effect of its presence.
One can never grasp it or hold it tight. Like air it is elusive, always present though never solid enough as rocks or trees or water as we embrace our surroundings. We are its captives but we can never clench it in our hands.
So too, every thought, idea, or concept. The idea of expressing these intangibles must win out with expressive, articulate, voices in any creative language available. Each of us with our own device
This writer walks the trails of various favorite places looking for solitude, and at the same time wanting the environment to absorb this spirit and energize this body with its beauty, its peace, and its essence. Breath deep, inhale and fill lungs with this core of life. Exhale with strength, relax the mind, cleanse the substance of life within each moment.
On these journeys the expectation of results haunts these footsteps. Most of them are no longer adventures of the spirit but a scan for a target, a direction, a goal. A self-defeating meandering excursion.
With that thought it must be noted the four legged companion no longer sniffs air searching for the origin of the many scents she used to catch on the wind. She longer lives with this writer. Our responsibilities to each other have been severed.
In some ways this circumstance has been a relief, a release, and for now, a sadness that will pass. We have parted. No explanation is forthcoming.
Ah, the jumble of thoughts rush around crashing into each other. One has difficulty placing an order of importance. Thoughts slip through and become lost in the process.
In one instant my heroes become hated for their success and creative energy. In the next, they are welcome residents. Such conflict is a constant, a driving force, and a feverish addiction.
This is a good thing. Really. The conflict powers the writing in ways one does not fathom but exploits. One can rely on this old saying: ‘Whatever floats your boat.’
Which brings into view another subject close to this heart. Images. How does one utilize them to best advantage? There are enough images in this shooter’s catalogue worth capitalizing on and risk a new direction.
Like finding abstract images in everyday objects, nature or things, new directions challenge the soul. However, without the challenge what is life but a humdrum existence? Another driving force feeding the spirit of this life.
Thrown into this mix is this: Occasionally, ha, writing may be compared to attempting to tickle yourself. Yes, it is trite. It is also meaningful. It ain’t easy.
Combining the two elements of writing and images becomes alive as a new expressive vehicle. Others, ‘Been there, done that.’ Of course. Doesn’t matter.
Another week possesses this spirit. Riding Time’s Arrow, and using each moment as a celebration of life is always and only, the best quest.
I am grateful for your visit. Thank you.