Thursday, July 18, 2013

A Kind of Writers' Block

The weeds that got away on us, and a young man with nothing better to do on a sweltering day.

There can be this powerful pull to "get something on paper," and then I find myself without any idea how to translate the language of my soul. It's as if there is a great big ball of meaning that simply will not be squeezed into straight little sentences, not even if I knew what it was I am bursting to express. And often I don't.

Sometimes motivation or heart's desire seems larger or deeper than the everyday life's opportunity to fulfil it.


3 comments:

  1. A very impressive little collection of straight little sentences!

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  2. For someone struggling to translate the language of her soul, you're very eloquent.

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  3. Plants are like people... there are the movie stars among us, and there are the rest of us. Movie stars are the flowers and the rest of us are the weeds.

    Wouldn't it be an awful world if all there was were movie stars? Personally, I like a good weed. Without the weeds, the rest don't shine quite so brightly.

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