I will write more often. I need to unhinge my censoring restraints. I need to let live and allow the torrents of my soul to flow through my finger tips. Imagery of the mind needs to play for others. Who am I to censor my self in fear of failing to communicate fully? I am here as a testament to the universes plan. It’s unfolded and it wishes to unfold more fully. I need to take this potential lurking in my depths and give it life.
I will write daily. I am committed to commenting on my own thoughts for the day, however mundane. I made a commitment not too long ago to write a million words- a thousand words a day for five years. I’m several dozen thousand behind. I need to make up for lost time. I need to learn to express more fully. The content is all the same. There is nothing new under the sun. The context is what changes, like the seasons. There is never a year or day or time like now. I will write about the now as it unfolds before my eyes. My thoughts will carefully select a curious perspective to translate.
I will become curious of all things. I will not settle, but reflect and act, hashing out the details in real time and arrive at a digestible position to sit on.
I yearn for a complement. Not the rhetorical flattery that inflates ones ego. I need one who complements who I am- an encourager. Where is the woman? Show yourself! I’ll confess- I’m not ready to provide the love that person rightfully deserves. There are others for that role in the mean time.
Calculus- Accounting- Economics. Blahhh. Makes be nauseas. These rigid ways of thought. Effective and efficient. Calculating. Precise. Where is the spontaneity! Where is the robust grandeur of chance and beatific risks! I long for these panegyrical displays of a life lived! I am wading through the mires of dry reason. Have I not found what I am looking for? What’s needed to live more fully? I desire a circle of confidants that appreciate the aims I shoot for. They support these lofty dreams I so seriously tackle. They pay no heed to my vain attempts at grabbing at the wind. They know that a gust will come and take me high above those who lay feverishly in the soil and sulk in their misfortune.
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I long to write more. Tomorrow… much much more!
William Dare 