there seems to be some reoccurring themes here, my writing taking me down familiar avenues of thought and ideas that are seen somewhat different now, asking for a new expression to be given to the page. I enjoy this, so many different ways to write of the values that shape my life, the gifts that light my spirit with the fire that they show. Writing itself is one of these reoccurring themes, my early morning ritual of meditation, coffee, and commitment to words. I write of this often, never tiring of how these simple, quiet moment can so easily be told, there's a tenderness here, almost fragile in the balance of silence and words, everything in a perfect place of listening, receiving....
writing.
perhaps this isn't really a reoccurring theme, none of it is, it's all freshly told to me each moment, and only later does it seem familiar, that I've written of this topic so often before. Yet each time is different, completely so, as there's nothing that is the same for me, each of my moments transient by nature, and what seems to be a reoccurring theme is simply a new appearance of something holy, sacred to me alone, and with an urge to be written down, expressed uniquely in this fragile moment.
perhaps.
but it doesn't really matter, writing seems independent of any of my wishes and demands, and honestly I prefer it this way, without any pressure to produce ideas of my own. All I really do is show up each morning, just moments from my meditation, coffee at hand, my one and only cup that complete the ritual of my writing. I am hear to listen, enjoying the warmth of coffee sips, the quietness that exist only before dawn, and there's really no need for words. What I have right now is enough, more so, I'm profoundly grateful for these moments, relaxed, and with this...
writing seems to happen, words appear, my listening more active now, expectant, and today there's a reoccurring theme that wishes to be written.
it's simply what the moment holds.
~
Peace, Eric
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