Continuous Surprise

A continuous surprise:

it's not like I need to write anything at all, without a true message to share, but still a wish to see what words might find themselves to the page, spontaneous in their arrival. This is all a guessing game, waiting, a rush of words that come unbidden, and the curiosity to see what final word appears.

this isn't my challenge, writing, nor any search for meaning - it's simply allowing words to find me in a receptive mood, open to their expression, and the willingness to commit them to the page. If I were a painter I would be in awe of every brushstroke, that an image waits unseen in its appearance, revealing hints with every dab of paint and movement of the brush. 

life itself is a continue surprise. 

everyday starts in similar manner as the page, there's no real idea of what may appear, of how it all will unfold. Nothing is truly promised. This morning I'm an artist, waking to the unknown, prepping to share myself in some creative endeavor. There doesn't have to be a grand expression, no true message, each object, every person and idea that appears will be a surprise, gifted from some grace, and received as such. There's curiosity as to what this day will bring, included too is my response, that I have no idea of the art that will be made, of the drama that might be told, or the poetry expressed. 

today is a surprise, spontaneous through every way. There's a wish to see what finds me, words that will make themselves to the page,ideas, people who come to share just a moment or two, a brief exchange of smiles and energy. We all give to each other in some unique way. It's all welcomed, the art of our world, however it wishes to unfold. 

it's all a continuous surprise. 

~

Peace, Eric