I love to connect with people through words. The act of pulling together phrases, ideas, experiences and thoughts, then placing them in the precise order on the page, delights me to no end.
When the composition is right, I sense that rightness. During the process my mind whirls and synapses start synapsing and words fit together and settle into a rhythm that reads well.
Something deep inside me recognizes words that are genuine and real and truthful and that they are to go just so. I get a pleasant taste in my mouth as I’m composing. My cells feel more alive. My entire body is on alert.
I pay no attention to commas or semi-colons. Periods appear when they feel like it. I aspire to correct spelling but don’t beat myself up over it. To me the editing of stuff falls way behind the coming together of the words.
Others have said it and I completely concur. Writing takes on a life of its own. Even in my advertising days, when my energy was spent on mundane acts of promoting a product or service that would or wouldn’t benefit humankind, I enjoyed the act of composition. The pulling together of facts and data into something readable, even enjoyable. Something that worked.
When I sit down to write and stumble over words and hit blank walls, I stop.
And listen. Then start again. Maybe right then. Or an hour later or a week or so down the road. The words that need to be written will come in their own time.
It just hit me. Our move here to Ecuador has been much like that.
Sitting in a booth at the Del Rio buffet in Dacula,Georgia one Sunday in October 2015, we decided that I would quit my job and we would make a change. Too many tears and far too much stress.
Two and a half months later we were homeless and on the road to a new life. Our house sold, two cars disposed of, 97% of our worldly possessions distributed far and wide and the remains packed into a 5×5 storage unite. With eight suitcases in tow, we were headed for South America.
One thing after another fell into place. At just the right time. In just the right order. No brick walls. No horror stories. No frayed nerves or teary days. Just a deep seated feeling that this was right. All is fitting into its proper place.
Here we are six months later about to move into our new home. Our temporary residence though nice has been somewhat dark and confining. Our new home offers plenty of room, light, greenspace and warmth. I anticipate many dinners with new friends, times of laughter, days of quiet and plenty of visits from loved ones back home.
I woke up blue this morning. Depression does that to me. Hits me with dampened spirits and a grey outlook on life. Then I sat down to do my day-late blogging challenge. After a few false starts, I walked away and did the laundry. I returned and these words flowed. They are correct. They are true. They are good. They resonate deep within me.
Like my life here with David and Katherine.