Who are we but a bunch of words? Letters strung together, broken up in efforts to make sense of a message we try to convey.
We exist first on paper ( or on a computer screen), and may find no life after that, unless a person puts the words together, receives the “gift” of the sender, and becomes “imprinted” with an idea, theory or image. Which may or may not have been the actual intent of the writer. The message depends on the make-up of the perceiver. Emotion and state of mind help create the channel through which words flow. Someone angry might read something different than one who’s happy. All things, including words, serve at the pleasure of one’s moment of “being.”
Make any sense to you? I can’t tell you the technical, biological or neurological process I go through when I read an article. I “open” myself to words, allowing my interest to grow more and more as I “absorb” the meaning meant for me, the observer. If I like the theme, I”ll continue reading, in hopes of either finding further enjoyment, inspiration or knowledge. Possibly all three. If I am staying with a theme only halfheartedly, I might “drop out,” end my reading and move on, investing my time elsewhere.
Good writing might keep my interest. Someone carving out a new model to see the world will keep me going as they use the writing craft to create suspense, friction and possibly even spell-binding phrases to draw me deeper into the realm of imagination as I completely forget that I am there — reading words about something — and not in the reality the writer and I secretly agreed to explore.A reality of the mind, which can be just as substantial as the computer box on the floor generating the power to our machines.
Why do we write? Why do we read another writer’s words? To communicate and understand, of course. To relate to someone, even if the someone is just ourselves. How often do we write something just to get it out of our system? To pour it out on “paper” so we can see it in the light of day and not keep it imprisoned in the dark corners we’re often too afraid to let anyone see, to admit to ever having such thoughts or feelings in the first place?
And it doesn’t have be anything “bad.” It could be the joy and/or love that swells from that well of goodness and “Godliness” that we can tap into and share with others if we were simply become unafraid of ridicule of ostracization. We can choose which part of ourselves to “let out and play” in full view of an unknown viewer. We have all these emotions within, and stories to tell using each and everyone of those little rascals inside. The good and the bad. More importantly, what we perceive as good or bad.
We just have to be honest . . . and completely open on both ends. The giving and the receiving. Now, get back inside, oh thoughts of mine. You’ve strut your stuff enough for one day.
Writing can be inspiring, reflective,fulfilling and certainly a good way of keeping the old grey cells in some reasonable cognative state.
After visiting my blog, I’m sure you can pretty much gather why I write haha. But, really, I write because there are so many stories to share. I write to inspire people, so they know there’s a whole world out there to experience. Sometimes, people aren’t able to experience those things and by reading a novel, they can. That’s part of the beauty of writing. Sharing new experiences..
I agree. Writing can also create a legacy of sorts, if you try telling bits and pieces of your life story in an honest way. May reveal some universals truths others can relate to, and help in understanding more of themselves.
It seems sometimes like I can touch author’s hearts when reading. I haven’t seen these people. I don’t know how they look like. But I feel them. Great! I feel kindness and positive energy of your writing even via the Internet.
You described how I see you. You create, inspire and open yourself for the entire world to see, and I would like to hold a mirror up for you to see your Self!
You do it with a second language. My God, how I wish I could have learned Greek or some other way to communicate with others in our universe.
I guess I have to be satisfied with simply trying to speak to you with my heart. As you do with me.
Feels like I just had tea with you. Love the intimacy that you provided with the peek into your strutted stuff. Thanks. – Amy
Make mine green tea. With or without caffein. Earl Gray, if you got it.
No, I take it straight. No sugar, milk or … what else do they put in it? Lemon? Honey?
Your company is all the sweetener I need. Any day.
Writing is a wonderful way to communicate even with its inherent limitations of not always being able to discern tone of voice or ready body language. I write because the thoughts flow through me to the paper. I am often in wonder after I read what I have written and ask “where did that come from?” I often feel as I am merely an instrument rather that the creator or what I write.
An instrument, a conduit, a channel of Good.
Once we let that mysterious Force take over, anything can happen, and I, too, become surprised at where I end up. The Source is one of “Godliness,” if that is a word I can use to describe it. I heard it used at a Kabbalah meeting and it felt right as I rolled the sylables quietly inside. It fit comfortably as I tried to “get my head around it.”
Thanks for all the Godliness you let flow at your site. Could it be that you have helped create “holy grounds” with the seeds you planted?
I do my thing and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations,
And you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you, and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it’s beautiful.
If not, it can’t be helped.
(Fritz Perls, 1969)
Great philosphy to live by. Moment by moment, day be day.