“Writing is thinking on paper. Thoughts grow into words, sentences and pictures. Memories become stories. Ideas are transformed into projects. Notes inspire insight. We write and understand, learn, see and think.”
I found these words written on the packaging of a ruled notebook that my husband purchased at a Barnes and Noble bookstore, a place we often frequent just to unwind. I was instantly enchanted by the message that seemed to encapsulate the essence of who I am and how important thoughts, words, understanding, learning and thinking are to me. I find great comfort in the simple act of using words to express the many ideas that exist in my mind. The beauty of words fascinates me.
When I am feeling anxious I resort to words. I solve word puzzles or list new ways of using words. I play with differing patterns of words and read the brilliant combinations of words from great authors whose stories, poems and sentences are akin to symphonies. I write to calm my spirit which is always alert and thinking. I see possibilities everywhere that I go and I record them with words.
I recall the vocabulary lessons of my youth. They were generally a kind of hated drudgery for me because they consisted of rewriting definitions of words nakedly out of context. It was only when I began to discover words used in oratory, novels and great tracts of history that I became insatiably interested in them. Strung together words are so powerful. Choosing the right one or wrong one in a sentence or a moment can change the world, end a friendship, or inspire others forevermore. There is a grandeur in perfectly connected words that elevate humans to a higher state. There is also danger in words that feed on fear and frenzy. Words once spoken or written down can be a gift or a curse.
I am a person who uses words to reflect on my past, present and future. It is a selfish act in many ways because it makes me feel so good, but what I have to say is sometimes disarming to others. My attempts to help them understand me only prove to confuse them. I all too often think out of the box of society and such a thing feels dangerous to more cautious people. I make myself vulnerable with my words. I show my scars and worries rather than pretending to be always upbeat. Such ideas are anathema to those who keep their thoughts inside for nobody to see. To me they are a release that makes me gloriously and happily human.
Just as I am unafraid to use my words to tell my truths, I am also unafraid to hear new or even shocking insights from others. Gifted philosophers and writers give ideas, stories, memories that may be shocking but tell us that our own flaws and dreams and questions are part of the grand human experience. Just as words may have a variety of meanings, so too humans come in many different modes of belief. It is exciting and sometimes mind blowing to parse the words of others who offer experiences and thought provoking inspirations without holding back. Their words stay with me and lead me to discoveries I might never have otherwise imagined.
I am a creature who surrounds myself with books. I write down words and ideas to consider in future attempts at writing. I find solace in learning when I am feeling anxious. I look for words that calm me and help me to realize that even in ancient times people have been much like me. While we certainly use words to explain how to build and how to heal and how to invent, the words of poetry lift us up beyond the constraints of gravity.
Life’s questions rattle inside my mind. I attempt to answer them with the written word. I am a feeble amateur. Compared to the greats I am an artist painting by the numbers, but still doing my best to create something worthy and beautiful. This is what writing means to me. It is so much more than just babbling. It is my hopeful journey into a proper reckoning with all that is good and all that is bad about living. It is my way of dealing with the ups and downs that we all encounter. It is a tribute to my father who taught me to love the written word and to my mother who showed me the emotional power of words. It is a nod to the teachers who opened the world to me with books and magazines and newspapers. It is a tiny gift that I wrap for anyone who chooses to read whatever I have to say. It is my daily hope that I might spark something wonderful in even one person. If any of my words manage to do that then I have succeeded. If that never happens I still feel quite good because words written down make me feel alive.
Words blow me away every single day whether they are mine or those of others. I reflect on them, embrace them, store them in my mind with wonder. I observe and I record with words, words, words. It is my passion.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 