writing

for every photo or poem or song i share here, there has been an epoch composed, edited repeatedly and heavily, and then deleted.

i love to write type. words feel like feathers, sweeping gently into my mind, drifting down into my fingertips which jump nimbly over the little black squares of my laptop. and i’m driven by questions… by theories… by ideas… by memories.

i’m driven to write.

but in the act of assembling the words, organizing the thoughts, making it all coherent and infusing enough beauty to make the lack of genius forgivable, i lose the desire to share.

i find answers to pressing questions as i labor over putting them into a readable form. i realize the shallowness of what seemed important as i parse it out letter by letter. it dawns on me as i create paragraphs of ponderings, rememberings, longings, that little may be gained by hovering over something that words can’t fix… that nothing can fix. and no reason to publicize what no one wants to hear.

so it turns out writing is effective. it’s the sharing that is unnecessary. and how amazing is it that i can use this invitingly empty page to solve something, decypher something, or give up on something, then clean it with one click and replace all the drivel with something your eye or ear can savor… an image that may bring a smile, a song that might bring release, or maybe a few potent words that can speak to all of us.

leaves show the most beauty as they die. maybe words bear the most clarity just before they vanish…

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