A Reluctant Writer I have spent countless hours writing. No aim or direction, just writing things that come into my mind and bug me until I sit with pen and paper, or typewriter, eventually word processor and now computer.
From my journal, 1986
"...,
I have no direction, no plan or destination for my writing. I am not even sure I want to write, but I seem to be continually drawn to pen and paper, and yet I say so little of intrinsic value. It has been impossible for me to remain with one writing project, and follow it to its conclusion, because I become bored or disinterested.
Is it my subconscious rebelling against the discipline that must be brought about to successfully weed, fertilize,and harvest? Why do I feel so sad? So unfullfilled?
The following words flowed from my mind:
And with a pleading voice I asked the wind, "'WHY DO I WEEP?"
The wind heard me not as it pursued its course brushing against all in its path without distinction.
As the raindrops touched my face I asked "WHY DO I WEEP?" They answered me not as they mingled with my tears, fell to the ground, and resumed the eternal flow.
The sun kissed me gently. "WHY DO I WEEP?"
It's rays caressed me, gave me light, but no direction as they bounced back into infinity.
"WHY DO I WEEP?" I asked the birds as the fluttered above me. They heard not my voice as the searched for their fruits of life.
I sat alone beside the river and asked no one, everyone, "WHY DO I WEEP?"
"In all of nature," I felt the reply, "there is direction. Each element, each life has purpose and meaning. Some succeed and some fail. You weep in the eternal pursuit of
destiny not revealed. You ask for answers to question not answered. You seek destiny without peril. You weep for the unknown."
I watched the river flow, heard its soft rippling tremors,and asked, "WHY DO I WEEP?
"Because you are loneliness in the vast arena of life," I felt the answer, "you seek realities undefined."
"Must I always weep?" I asked the swaying branches of the aged tree.
"Find direction for your soul, and meaning to your life."
A falling leaf touched my face, absorbed my tears. I held It in my hand, felt the veins, saw the intricate design.
A leaf falls from a tree, touched by the wind, washed by the rain, warmed by the sunlight.
The river flows gently by, as life moves in direction."
Finding Direction The direction I would like to pursue now, is that of writer. On the pages of this web site you will find numerous writings I've done througout many years. As I reviewed them these past few months I realized, that they are a part of, Writings from the heart and they are,
The Essence of Me. The 'Thinking About' series of essays I wrote in the early 90's. Daily I would sit at the word processor, (I didn't get a PC until '95) and a word would pop into my mind, like 'learning. I'd write it down and let my Famon, my Muse, run with it, delving into my inner most thoughts, bringing them to the forefront of my consciousness, and I would sit back when the writing was done and read what I thought about 'learning', or 'faith', or 'attitude'. You can click on any of the thinking about essays to the left. 'Look Who's Talking', is a series of short bios I wrote about some of my favorite people in history--they are written as if the person is talking to young people today, giving them a brief look into who they were. I hope they might inspire others to read more about these wonderful characters, writers, teachers, and philosophers. You can click on any one of the names and go directly to their page. To read any of the article, short stories, essays, etc, go to the left of this page and click on the one you'd like to read. I said goodbye to my son today! Enjoy each day. Embrace each moment. Be the best that you can be! In the end, it will be our legacy. Do what you love and if you can't do that, find a way to put love in your doing. Always remember to tell the people you care about how you feel. I'm glad my son's and my last words to each other were, "I love you". |
