So, someone asked me the other day “what do you like about writing?” People can understand why anyone wants to BE a writer — it’s fun, creative, work, etc. But why do I LIKE it???
Staring at a blank page is sort of like staring into the infinite — the inner self — the unknown. You and the page have the pre-supposed power to shape a generation, save a life, and make a child wonder. A rollercoaster ride where you can’t see the tracks ahead but you just go in the moment.
Anything can happen! The page becomes a quantum field for the infinite, off which can come the next Iron Man, Lord of the Rings, or who knows? The self, the I, is a conduit for it. A filter or lens through which a flirting thought is caught and thereon the potential is endless…
Ever seen the redwoods? They are the largest species of trees in the world, some as high as 30 stories and wide as a building. As a seed, the tree fits in the nail of my finger. Similarly, when I write I hold the seed of the infinite in my brain.
Sometimes all it takes is a gentle wind to lift hand-to-page and page-to-hand. And voila! Channeled is the infinite in finite ink for our passing selves to enjoy,
Here and now.