Why am I here? What am I doing? Must be looking in the fridge again for ice cream.
I have a new favorite movie. There are cars in it. Some English countryside, a bicycle and a couple cows. Some of the cars go fast. A person laughs. And swans are discussed. But the only reason needed is a smile.
I would mention the movie title but I feel as though the name would prompt a mathematical response from a search engine and they don’t sound cool. No vroom vrooms or cow bells. But amidst a collection of Hollywood cliches and stereotypical outlines resonates a clear formula not for the win but with which to endure a smile. For sometimes life is about wearing mismatched socks and determining for it to be a miracle.
Not to settle for a reason when answering why am I here.
I have wanted to write ever since I was little. But I am not a good writer. Each word a labor of love like a boy trying to pull start an old lawn mower and in the end only teaching a Priest to swear as the old joke goes.
In college I was required to take developmental writing and in my first real literature class my teacher, who I grew to love over the years (jokingly because of her ever ready home made pizza and ice cream), asked me quite bluntly: (please excuse the language) “What the fuck are you doing in the English department? She was honest. I loved that.
But she gave me a chance and let me pursue what I love. And I know this essay is going to be a winding road. I probably lost most of the readers at the first stop for gas as they have good snacks there and a nice waiting area, but I want to pause here too and say something.
The passions that have been placed on people’s hearts are important and one of the best gifts we can give each other is to let people love life.
But even if I could write another problem occurs and here is where I will say something that might coordinate with this blog even though I dislike the idea of making sense. Why should my words, my stories, my attempts to say something matter? Here I want to liken the thought to the philosophical discussion that surrounds gift giving, love even life.
To explain consider Shakespeare’s Romeo And Juliet which often gets cubbyholed into a stereotyped children on the playground learning about kumbaya analysis. In Romeo and Juliet the hate of the families is real but what is more real is the love of Romeo and Juliet and their desire to overcome fate. Hate speaks from a vacuum but when examining Romeo and Juliet from the heart questions are raised about the passion of love, the free will of life and letting each moment be a gift.
In the bringing to life of sentences with printed letters a similar struggle for some exists. Much like the conditions of unconditional love or gifting being a mere transaction or life not as an act of choice but as an act of fate, words struggle to be themselves trapped in languages used by many, meaning more than they ever do, finding author’s voices echoed as they struggle to hear their own, and if almost succeeding to only be accused often rightly of arrogance, vanity and self infatuation. And as impossible as it may be to give a gift, love, or live life sometimes writing a meaningful sentence faces a similar angst.
For a moment I am setting aside the writing in this blog. There are some other projects that I am starting, but also I am needing to take care of other things in life and think through, make sure of what I want this blog to be and if it needs to exist. For I want my words when I pursue them on paper to be like the poor woman from the New Testament who gave everything she had in a quiet act of the heart—even if the lawn mower never starts.
I remember early one morning watching the sun rise, listening to the tide and enjoying a cup of coffee. The sun dancing on the waves I wanted to catch with a picture, but as I reached to pull out my camera I stopped. Not because I did not want the picture but because I wanted to stay in the moment not wait to experience it later. So that is where I am going to try to stay for a bit letting the noise quiet, trying to find my way through this corner, and learning to answer with only a smile.