The Writing Life
There is a good bit of irony
in writing to be mindful.
The nature of writing
is not being present.
The nature of writing
is being past.
To write about experience
is to be present
in the writing
perhaps, if one is
conscious of the pen,
the paper, the pause,
the gathering and planting.
More likely, writing is
an act of being present
to not experience,
not even memory of experience,
but to meaning
strained from memory
which is its own
filter of experience.
Writing is distilling
and steeping
and playing with the settings,
cropping and combining,
layering and stripping away
and saturating,
separating the wheat,
as they say, from the chaff.
Writing is the long way
to mindfulness.
We take the orange,
extract the juice,
strain the pulp,
and drink what's left
to experience
the orange.
So the purpose of this blog is to be a space to practice creativity. I am currently using it as a place to record a single, unedited poem for each day in 2019. While I attempt to write everyday, I may not actually post daily. Instead, I will post poems as they are completed, but one for everyday of the year. Not sure I can make it, but we'll see. It's fun to try regardless :)
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Poem: March 12, 2024
No One I run until I am invisible and free from the tendrils of the day and the treadmill and the others who fill this space, free of my gho...
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Maintaining Some people won’t straighten their desks at the end of the day, but I do, most days, and I sweep the floor as well, ten to tw...
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No One I run until I am invisible and free from the tendrils of the day and the treadmill and the others who fill this space, free of my gho...
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Through a Crack in the Door Think of those times late at night, really any time in the long expanse of life when you are walking down any em...
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