i’ve been told i am a bit wordy. i’ll admit it, and if you’ve read this blog at all, you’ll admit it too. i suppose make up for what i lack in precision with sheer volume. but, i think there is a middle ground where the power of the succinct and the beauty of detail can mesh into truth.
and, even though all this rings to be true; 1) the overabundance of detail is exhausting, boring and, generally, not helpful 2) the muddiness of so many ‘almost’ examples that partially convey an idea cannot by any measure make up for a precise statement.
yes, this is true, but i think there is a much more real and easily seen reason behind my lack of ability to convey and communicate clearly, effectively and in any exciting manner:
i don’t have anything to say.
i have spent so much, much time looking at other people and understanding them i have forgotten to cultivate the one garden that i should have cultivated: myself.
i am often unsure of what i think about something until i have someone to react to. only with a listening partner can i grasp my own ideas.
i need less reaction and more motivation.
and i’m going to be working on that.
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About sonny
sometimes i consider the sheer beauty of it all…imagine falling in love with the world’s most brilliant…_________…whatever they might be…for now, let’s say she’s a painter…imagine falling in love with world’s most brilliant painter…her paintings are such that she not only captures the essence and beauty inherent in what she colors, she somehow manages to improve it…no, you could never mistake her painting for the real thing, but somehow that very fact brought required greater adoration; her paintings manage to make it seem more brilliant…that is just how amazing she is…she creates worlds where vibrant and pale are sisters that celebrate one another in perfect harmony…now imagine, if you can, that you were allowed to visit one of these paintings…you could run barefoot in the greens and browns…you could jump up towards the light blues and blacks of the sky…you dive into the dark blues and grays…you could close your eyes and bask in the orange and the yellows…and everything would be made all the sweeter when you realized that this beautiful place, almost zahir-like in its magnificence (yet without robbing you of yourself), was created by your love…you were swimming in her imagination, breathing in her brilliance…her πωεμα (poem) was your playground…how very, very magnificent…
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