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Friday, January 27, 2006

midnight coffee



"I Hope to Give You Reasons to Get Sober "


"I Kissed a Girl with a Broken Jaw That Her Father Gave to Her "


"Hands Not Mouths "


"A Dialect of Thankfulness "





These are titles of the last four blog entries that you should have been able to read - unfinished thoughts. I have become (or have always been) too restless to write, for there is too much to write. If I take a few more moments to think…

Palestinian elections and the state of peace and unrest
Kidnapped reporters and western apathy
New thoughts on God
New thoughts on love

all this newness and the last few weeks of emotional and rational internal banter have not had time to ferment – to become the wine that they could. I have not tended to these vines at all. I have not stopped to write, or even think longer than the attention span of a 13yr old boy. I have noticed that so many thoughts and ideas do not make there way into my writing but rather my conversations.

There are feelings and ideas that have struck me crazy the last few weeks that I have never sorted through in prose or in song or in haiku (I don’t think I’ve written a haiku but just look at how great it looks in this blog). ,Things that I have or will sort in conversation.

This is not necessarily a preferred way of emoting, or sorting out ideas – or even conveying opinions…but I’m too restless most of the time to do these things any other way. In fact I hate that I lack the poise and patience to write the content to these entry titles.

Even now I struggle to finish this thought. Maybe it’s an ability to be still. Or maybe because the type of conversing that I describe so often happens “in the moment” I rely on jumping from moment to moment. I am not creating my own moments to process. I cannot on an average day stop, soak, and swim by my own volition. It’s as if I’m waiting for the ocean rise up and swallow me.

I am the child fearful of the bath before bed. Overcome with aqua phobia when faced with the harsh reality that there is no escaping the bath. With tears in my eyes I extend my leg, look away, and touch my toes to the burning, shallow waters – wishing my mother would have just thrown me into the bath instead of standing there waiting for me to navigate my own path to tub.

So I wait for people to walk through my front door and begin to share their lovely ideas of love and life so that I may step in and share, because there, in that place, their will nothing else for me to do but to step in and process – step in and create – step in and dream.

There is a great responsibility in recording meaning. I wish I was up for the job. I mean I am UP for it – I just can’t bring myself to do it with any regularity.

…If this doesn’t make sense to you I’ll try to explain it when you show up at my front door for midnight coffee.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

i have many of these titles in the pages of my journals as well... oh if only the world would stop spinning underneath our feet to give us just .a moment. to stand still and freely ponder about all that has passed by us without letting the moment pass us by

Pauletta said...

seriously? :-)
i know this situation (or rather these situations) way too well...and even if it seems that i might write and talk a lot...(i mean, i probably do...a lot more than others) - so much gets lost! and i can't hold it! even if i am sitting down to write, the thoughts chase each other and i am unable to finish even one...
well, but what i hear and read from you is great! :)
shalom

Pauletta said...

seriously? :-)
i know this situation (or rather these situations) way too well...and even if it seems that i might write and talk a lot...(i mean, i probably do...a lot more than others) - so much gets lost! and i can't hold it! even if i am sitting down to write, the thoughts chase each other and i am unable to finish even one...
well, but what i hear and read from you is great! :)
shalom