..............eyes wide open, is still not enough!
Some days, I do not actually write. Not because there are not things, places, or people to write about, mainly my inability to get it moving stems from net being able to focus.
Wanting to write, desiring to express myself is only part of my process around turning abstractions into words. More often, I am just breathing and that act of catching one breath becomes a word that supports a sentence, which then becomes a meditation en route to a story.
Sometimes, people within my sensory areas can create a ripple that I can use as a propellant, though mostly it is through their subsurface pain and the things that I can discern they are hiding from that makes the window into a story open wide for me. Even in the vacuum of a total stranger, a story is often revealed to me by the placement of their hands on a table, or hidden under the flickering of their eyes, maybe even contained within the voice in which they address a small child.
To follow and explore these stories are of great value to me, though they often cost more than the completed story is worth, for the pain I must wade through to get the chance to see the boundaries of this new and exciting place, is never as easily forgotten as I would like. Oddly enough, each moving body part contains are story.
This I discovered when I grew old enough to warrant a hand shake from others, seems each new person who I came in contact with, revealed to me something about themselves whenever we touched. Some of those early stories were the best if not for the intense rush of revelation that washed over me, some where so diabolically beautiful it made me weep immediately, others were just the vaporish endeavors of the uncared for among us, but each was as sweet as the fall rain, in its intensity, and cleansing side effects.
About Me
- Edward Thomas
- More than just a Man, but also, a human being as well; Me, I'm just as often found @ the center of the struggle, but never as someones absent minded follower. True enough, I love my Mother, and though I'm eager to be perfect, I actually prefer to be nice, than have my own way! When asked, my closest friends would say that I am often in the company of the wind: The Wind(a dear friend of mine since birth) and I are often near and around you, and though, we're not always seen or felt near you, it's always better understood within you. Odd I know, but true nonetheless. True, not unlike the truth contained withing the thought of me flying would appear, but then again, when the wind wills, well, often I've awoken in strange places and had to patiently await his return, so as to get back home again. Luckily, he never lingers long, for it's hard enough explaining my discernment (of)to people. Imagine the after shock of a early morning phone call from Cleveland???
