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April 10, 2017
When first conscious, still in the bed, wondering if one should pee, or roll over, and curl up, and suppress a natural function, one realizes this person is still alive. Cold feet, or not enough blankets, or being sweaty from turning the electric blanket too high, reassures the energy of this entity, life is pulsing.
The black sleep of pills has worn off and the mind is searching for sounds, for familiar company. Noises of the world, wind, barked dogs, truck roaring engines, a simple quiet melody on the iPhone nudging its owner to taste again cold mountain air. These are the moments.
These are the openings one waits for. When they arrive there is no time for anything but this time. No music, no distractions, no earbuds.
Just a bubble of silence and a light tapping of furious keys. Ideas begin their unfolding of mist like blankets releasing their contents into the open and if one does not heed the stir of thoughts, one can only be responsible for what is not said. So many days, so many mornings, these thoughts pass into another realm and wait.
Eventually everything comes out. Eventually everyone is offended. Some ducks of people take it and most do not. The change of life is the only constant and one either rolls with it or becomes the resistance and transforms into a wall beating against time.
Always a loss. Nothing beats time. Nothing.
To write whatever is the only solace, the only proof of life, the only release. Thoughts and ideas cannot remain in cages forever. There is always escape.
Some escapes are rather accidental, as the mind knows when to unlock cells and even the gatekeeper cannot determine when who will out. Surprise. A slip of the tongue, a phrase said in the moment, without thought, but with impulse reveals what lies behind the eyes.
Sensitive individuals catch those impetuous moments and either express a question or hold them captive for future use.What is the purpose? To express a process.
Writing holds its best moments when no plan is formed, formulated or constructed. An urge, a feeling, a spurt of energy fills the spaces of this mind like an expanding gas, and fingers explode the words into cyberspace of pages electronic.
There is no mention of nice, or good, or bad, or pedestrian, just what has been expressed. Most leave it on the page and care little or not at all. It does not matter.
Reading more then becomes the most important activity for those who express with words. There are so many choices. One must find those who oppose the reader in style, content, themes, plots and ideas, and those who read like a river.
In the contrast of these writers one will find a better instrument for the self. It is this amazing silent disparity that brings forth a stronger, clearer, and more profound voice. Tempered reading with continuous writing is a perpetual motion machine.
That means, one will never run out of material if the schedule is kept to on a regular basis. Or in this writer’s case an irregular, intermittent schedule. We all develop our own style.
Thank you. I am grateful for your visit.