And so, I write
I’ve found that most of the times that I start banging away on my keypad, I’m not really sure what it is I will write about, and before I know it, the writings are staring at me, with my screen reader lending a helping hand. I have become so used to this Eloquence voice talking to me that I hardly ever notice it any more. It’s as if an old friend is sitting beside me, telling me of different things and carefully announcing each letter as I type. I don’t know what I would do without you Mr. Eloquence, and as the words go flowing by, rarely have I ever thanked you properly.
Life comes at us at such a furied pace that very easily we overlook those graces that enable, teach and guide us through the obstacles of said life. Too many times through my spins around the calendar have I, myself, overlooked and taken for granted all of the amazing ways that help arrives. Too often have I laid my head down onto my pillow at night, not taking the time to reflect on the tools afforded me throughout my day, and as one more of those days winds down out here on the ridge, I can understand why.
This past year of 2014 has been an incredible year for this dusty ridge goat. I have been through some incredibly difficult situations, some incredible opportunities, hugged a few friends, been inspired by a few more, and through it all, here I am, once again sitting in front of my computer, wondering what it is that I might write next. I sit, I wonder, I think a little bit and then, I write a little bit more.
Could this thing called writing be considered as a gift? Could this penned universe be considered one of the best blessings of my life? Of course, it might, but it would stand, at best, second place to the gift of family and friends, but even so, it’s amazing worth isn’t lessened in the least.
It seems as if these days I live to write, and I write what I live. The two go hand in hand, one beside the other, complimenting and propping up and weaving in and out of my day, and then, another one lines up and readies itself for the starting gun.
And they’re off!
I write about the incredible lows and amazing highs I have seen these past four years. I write about the unrehearsed magnificence of friendship and love I have found throughout my family and the blind community. I craft scripted words reflecting on the blessings that seem to keep finding me, and I write about how I have learned to see in a sightless world. I write, and I write, and through it all, I feel as though I have so much more still to write about. One word at a time. One phrase, one sentence, one meaning surrounded by one purpose that scatters like the wind, heading into a thousand points of existence.
In 2014 I have learned how to write from a technical perspective, how to create something from something I know nothing about, and how to continue expanding from a magical level of creativity that keeps reading back as if someone else wrote the words. I have formed new meanings from old thoughts, and resurrected old friends from new beginnings. I have typed and wondered, spell checked and indented, saved and renamed, but I have discovered a non stop lesson along the way, and that is no matter what this life of ours throws at us, there are always those gifts that we can call our own.
I always like to think of each day as a gift. Why else would they call it the present?
And so, once again, I write.