I used to write quite often.
Now-a-days I still get that primal
writers urge to express ponderings or tell a story, but I find the only things that will escape my mind are frustratingly trite and
bland. Small-minded words seem to plop themselves down on the page, beer
bellies and all, where I used to effortlessly entertain more courteous and
thought provoking guests. Eventually I look at the page in disgust, bemoan my
inability to be magical, and resort to YouTube videos or endless refreshing of
my Facebook feed.
Every once in a while, I do still read. At
moments, some fiber inside shivers with memory at beautiful, marvelous words. When
sweeping descriptions, ponderous challenges, and humorous anecdotes run across
the screen, my little heart suddenly beats in my throat. In music I guess we
call it resonance: When you play a note, and the harmonious strings hum at
the kindred sound waves tripping past them. I resonate with words. The letters ramshackle
up a portal where we can catch a glimpse of something similar, oh so the same! "It's
me! It's me too!" whispering that someone out there understands. Somewhere
out there was a person dreaming and observant, with new perspectives and
questions like the ones trying to escape from my own head. Those trapped words are being heard from someone else's fingertips, even when I can
barely stutter out what I mean. They clarify my wanderings, and give a title to
the tiny fragments of world still begging to be named.
Perhaps that’s the power of good
writing: its ability to transport you to a new realm, but also to make the
place you are less distant. It can open your eyes to unseen worlds, yet
transform your own day into something more manageable. Mostly, good writing has
the ability to take those minute daily things, or those grand overwhelming
things, and mix them into one and the same so that you can see both when you
shut the pages. Sometimes, I think this
is why the Bible can be so fascinating to us if we give it the chance. Aside from other divine purposes,
it remains also as wonderful literature. It has this ability to mix the ethereal
and the average yet remain so immortally resonant with our souls and the truths we see peeking out around us.
In my head, I always have these
great ideas to write about. Unfortunately, some require research, and more
reading, which I then halfheartedly quit about ¼ of the way through because I’m
fascinated by a new shiny bit of knowledge. It’s really not very enlightening
at all. In spite of this, maybe someday I’ll hit the nail on the head, and
write something resonating, something daily yet eternal. [Imagine a sheepish grin right about here...I'm counting on spontaneous greatness.] Until then, I’m just
going to plop thoughts down.
Resonance versus plopping