Is there any coincidence that ever since I've taken a (long) break from exposing my inner most thoughts to the whole damn unsoliciting planet that I've felt completely out of rhythm with the universe? I don't think so. This was a place I found SO much comfort in...so all the insanity of life aside, I've got to somehow manage this task again. I felt closer to everything and everyone...I took more photos. I embraced more moments. I took the time...and there's the rub...I took the time
. I think that needs to be a priority. There are a lot of priorities that never seem to find my attention these days. Sure, there's a lot going on, of course there is...I'm not 13...but there will always be excuses and I don't want to be the type that makes excuses. I want to be the type that lets the world in and allows the wind, or a the music that drifts on it, or perhaps a smile from a stranger, to change him. With that notion settling in like the Spring, I think it's time to let my heart spill across this keypad again. There have been worse ideas.
I've always wanted to write, even as I've shrugged off the possibility of it, or as I brushed away the praise, or dismissed the generous compliments...like many of the things in my life I've been much too casual about them. Doing something valuable demands determination, of some kind, and I'm certain that there are "kinds" of determination...levels of commitment, depths of exploration...I've snorkled the shallow waters of my life for far too long, knowing full well that there are treasures at the bottom of the ocean. To be a writer you must write...and so with one giant breath here I go, diving deep, remembering to exhale as I descend. It's been apparent for some time that I don't float very well...I sink...so it's possible that I've been fighting against my obvious lack of buoyancy for much longer than I needed to. It's time to write.