On ritual, the end of day, and a beginning

To unpack the day is to build images that stretch the moments of that day or many days before into carefully curling lines that fill the page with the ordinary, the interesting, even the mundane. It is to write, often with little time to put the thoughts and sentences together; and to accept when reading is just enough and often just as fulfilling as my own string of words tumbling to the page.

Those words I’ve read, words I hope to collect, borrow, rewrite however, are boiling over in my head so at some point I know I do need to get them down before they burst into frayed letters and fall all over the page in an exhausted blur. Interesting because those exhausted words seem to mimic me at the end of a typical day as I struggle to dedicate enough time and space to write.

It is in that daily sliver of space that I write in bits and pieces in my journal, my laptop, on Twitter, in ongoing conversations, sounds and ideas circling on in my daily life. My hope is to keep these ideas together just long enough to dribble a few lines in my favorite journal of the moment, a tiny leather Moleskine light enough to carry everywhere, sturdy enough to hold big ideas, patient waiting for me to write something, anything by the end of the day, when the rest of the words have already found themselves a place to rest their lines.

I often write in the early mornings, but the end of the day will also do. When do you write? (Some of you will say as often as possible.)

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Categories: Inspiration, Writing

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