A Writing Meditation

I write.

Leaping off a cliff in the dark. There is a thrill to it. Not knowing what obstacles I might encounter or if the drop is ten feet or a mile.

I love writing this way. I love the fear and anxiety of this unknown. The resistance of the air makes the wind in my face, ears, and nose. “Leap and a net will appear”, or maybe not. Does it matter?

The fear and anxiety are real. Will the leap matter? To anyone? To me? Am I a fool just wasting time? Again, does it matter?

It matters because I’m alive! I feel! And, I care to place words in front of people.

Writing does not kill. I could die of not writing. This is an expression of my humanity…my existence…my love of living. How could this not have a value? Is a dancer on an empty stage…or an artist, whose masterpiece is never seen, without value? An expression of the love of life may be the only value, even if never seen.

The calling of a bird in deep wilderness, the scent of a wildflower or the wafting of a small cloud across the sky…does the universe say “Nay!”?

…and sail in this thin air.

Poet. Philosopher. A sense of Humor. 60 years ago I rode the winds at the top of a tall cottonwood. Buy me a coffee @ https://ko-fi.com/danasanford

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