Writing is healthy as it is fulfilling, and really needs
to enter my life again. Its gone to the wayside as life has gotten more
'grown-up.' The big events that crop up and need be codified in some way to
avoid being lost forever, are usually just lost forever. My goal is to relax a
bit, purge some of the technical writing style which seems to pervade my ever
waking thought, and give myself the freedom of exploring-by-writing
light/heavy/comical/ultraserious/angsty/unangsty/sad/happy things. Thats the
goal. Skip the meta-analytical. Maybe skip most of the angst, and concentrate on
happy.
I very much love and am fulfilled by my coupled life. (Just for
insurance, maybe I should say this is an extension of loving and being fulfilled
by her). I could write about this. And, time-willing, the current
events/philosophical/social issues out there that warrant some analysis and
exploration-via-writing. Themes of past writing, from the teenage livejournal to
the infrequent blackberry documents, have been social awkwardness, mindfulness,
sexuality. Reflections on interdependence; basically trying to convince myself
of it.
Being outdoors, on land relatively undisturbed, is what grounds me.
It is especially sombering right now - always like the spiritual person entering into their sanctuary after a long absence. The relatively undisturbed earth
places, the trees, scarab beetles, wasps, flowers, fallen leaves, is a lullaby
of the soundest truth I know. It is a present state of evolution. A template
that began so long ago with some ancient waters and... whatever the current
consensus of the beginning. I like to think of the goings-on of stromatolites.
It is
the cathedral, weathered exterior of which filled with scribbled histories. It
is the roots and place sense forever inscribed - my hometown, so to speak... is purifying, grounding, inspiring... I'm hereby making a reminder to write about this.
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