It’s a little too early or too late to start talking resolutions but I have been thinking about one.
Writing.
I love the punch of the keys, the words lolling towards a conclusion, sometimes the merest hint of an idea can end up with pride of place on the page. I haven’t been writing as much as I would like, or maybe I have been writing even more than ever and haven’t registered that I am actually engaged with my words.
Writing is like that, practise means everything. The more we write, the more we can write and the easier it becomes.
Writing down thoughts can clear the mind and fill it right back up again.
Like a bottomless cup, writing is never finite. It’s never done, until it’s done.
And sometimes, the words won’t flow. Words can be wayward, they leave us discarded and alone not sure of what we have done to deserve such desertion. One thing I do know, they will return. Like a relationship with a teenager, abandonment is never really personal.
It pays to remember that.
Why I am thinking about writing today of all days I don’t know. Strange how the mind can take a detour when least expected.
I should be thinking about Christmas and gift wrapping, I must finish the decorations, arrange flowers and start planning a menu. I think I mean menus, for we are many at home this year.
Writing is foremost on my mind this morning. Taking this quiet time to reflect on a simple pleasure will ensure that the rest will happen… xv
