Deep Dive

I have an idea that is dangerous but I can't let it go.  Okay, I'm choosing not to.

Before taking the deep plunge into this brainstorm I'd like to give some background..

It turns  out that today,  April 3, 2024, is exactly one year since I started writing an almost daily "poem" during my morning meeting with my wife Dorothy. Two  posts ago  I wrote about this process and how it has become an important part of my life and gave some examples of my spontaneous "poetry."  

I went on to wax poetically about the virtues of self-expression and bemoaned the fact that I think most of us are intimidated by "real" artists and never even try to raise our own creative flags.

I strongly believe we each have a voice waiting to surface and be heard - a song to be sung.  It doesn't matter if it's writing, singing, dancing,  painting, drawing, cooking etc.  I just hope each of us can find a way to  "let your soul and spirit fly" (thanks Van). 

Ergo...as an example of expressive risk taking, I have decided to post a year's worth of my almost daily writings.  I  plan to publish each of these exactly a year after they were written.  I'll probably do some elaboration as part of these posts. We'll see.  Be warned.  These writings were made 'hot off the griddle."  They may not be "art" but I promise you they are real, raw, and unfiltered.

(When I told Dorothy my plan and that it felt like I was about to drop my pants in public she said, "I thought you liked to drop your pants in public." Hmm.)

I hope you find them interesting and  are encouraged to find or deepen your own path. It'd be great if you joined me on this journey. It'd be spectacular if you shared via the comments section any thoughts or actions these  words might inspire. 

Here's what I wrote on April 3,  2023:

What I say is the same as every word ever said by thousands of streaming voices trying to find each other over the noise and silence of the empty washrooms of civility

My love is shackled by my mind.

I find no other way than the lonely path of solitude and desire.

Why the losing is so bad is that so much is still unfound. 

I weep for nothing by way of everything.

Thanks for reading!

Post script

I can't resist adding these lines by T.S Eliot in East Coker

And so each venture
Is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate,
With shabby equipment always deteriorating
In the general mess of imprecision of feeling,
Undisciplined squads of emotion. And what there is to conquer
By strength and submission, has already been discovered
Once or twice, or several times, by men whom one cannot hope
To emulate - but there is no competition -
There is only the fight to recover what has been lost
And found and lost again and again: and now, under conditions
That seem unpropitious. But perhaps neither gain nor loss.
For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business.

Can I hear an AMEN!