His words are so poetic and moving that at times I feel transfixed and suspended... "Wish I could feed myself with words; hunger would never invade me.." he writes.. Man,.. that speaks to me. I have always believed that words have immense power. All emotions center and revolve around them. One phrase to one speaks beauty and light, while to another brings confusion and misery. War, love, bliss, terror all can stem from them. They often fall off lips without conscious thought, and rarely do they sing like Beethoven to a classically trained ear.. I know in life I have often spent countless hours perfecting my words. On paper I pour out my heart hoping to convey myself in a way that spoken word can only mar. I try in earnest to convey what's the ultimate enlightenment of words; understanding. It is this need for perfection that quiets my voice.
I haven't blogged in awhile. I have received a few requests but the words haven't wanted to come. I realized yesterday that it was not for lack of inspiration but rather fear. Fear that my words could not have meaning. Fear that for the last few months my life has been without lessons. Hope, inspiration, joy is what I hope to instill in my writings. I love to learn, through whatever medium. I always have. I enjoy relationships with people that inspire a deep exchange of knowledge in anything and everything. I take pleasure in opening up my thoughts, of turning something dark into light and of inspiring.. Of turning a cynic to a believer, a person without hope into a person without limits, of making others see the best..
Relationships to me are the biggest life lessons. In interacting with others you see your true self; fifty shades of strengths, fifty shades of imperfections. What I've learned this past three years is acceptance. I have learned that words may never lead to understanding. I've learned that no matter how hard you try you may never be able to stream together perfection. Instead you have to have pride in your desire to try, your desire to make confusing sane, something emotional joyful and something disorganized manageable.
My father is an inspiring artist. A man with a great heart for beauty and others. Through him I received my passion for words. Like him I may not be able to feed myself with words, but life has taught me that as long as I try, hunger and passion will never leave my side...
My goal this year although late in coming is to realize that and to once again, slowly but surely, use my words!!!!!!!
