And now it is obvious to me what is wrong with that last sentence. Do you see it? Have to find? Like it's a job, a chore, a requirement, an obligation, an albatross around my neck? No, no no! That is not what this is about! Falling in love, appreciating the world around me, contemplating the value in all that I encounter here . . . these are not chores; these are privileges.
Being a sucker for markers of time, I feel compelled to assess what this experiment has offered me so far. (First, though, I must reference a favorite quote by the character Miles Dentrell of Thirtysomething: "The decimalization of time is so arbitrary." I agree. But nonetheless . . . )
There have been days when this challenge has been easy. Something strikes me early in the day and I make a mental note, "Yes! I can write about this today!" And throughout the day, my ideas about it are percolating, just waiting for their time at the keyboard. Other days, there's a sense of dread hanging over me: "Crap! What am I going to fall in love with today?" I sometimes feel like I am reaching and falling short on those days. You can probably tell which posts fall into that category.
But the best days are the days when I sit down at the blank page on the computer screen with no idea what the subject will be and just start typing. I begin the text without even a title. And because I believe in the magic of the written word, whatever is in my subconscious traverses the veins in my arms and escapes through my fingers, onto the keyboard and up on the screen. Love.
And those would be the days when I most feel what this blog is teaching me. There is love all around, and sometimes, instead of searching for it, it finds you.
A few days ago, I came upon some dead flowers on the beach. I have no friggin' idea what the meaning of that discovery is, but I'd like to put a picture on this post, so here they are:
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