Maybe this ongoing story of the intersection of my life with others, constantly recorded and updated, can be checked at any time, much like an email. And while the creative act introduces me to a pleasurable place where I am able to strive and at the same time forget myself, what if each new word I write contains the same message that has come before, so in a way my own words continually come back to me instead of ever truly being sent out?
Sunday, December 16, 2018
What if This Were Enough?
Perhaps anything and everything we say is a curse that encroaches on someone else’s experience. Words only set us up to have conflicting stories with everyone. With our words, what should come across as an inclusive, all-encompassing account of what it means to be human, is instead a tale that presents only one version of our fractured, tough, protected selves.
Maybe this ongoing story of the intersection of my life with others, constantly recorded and updated, can be checked at any time, much like an email. And while the creative act introduces me to a pleasurable place where I am able to strive and at the same time forget myself, what if each new word I write contains the same message that has come before, so in a way my own words continually come back to me instead of ever truly being sent out?
Maybe this ongoing story of the intersection of my life with others, constantly recorded and updated, can be checked at any time, much like an email. And while the creative act introduces me to a pleasurable place where I am able to strive and at the same time forget myself, what if each new word I write contains the same message that has come before, so in a way my own words continually come back to me instead of ever truly being sent out?
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