I get it, Jean-Michel. I get it.
After accomplishing one-quarter of my goal of writing what I see right here and right now each day for a hundred days, I can confirm the following:
The more I write, the more I like everything.
The more I write, the more I see the world a little differently. The more I write, things change colour and shape. The more I write, the more connections I make. The more I write, the more I dwell in gratitude and mystery. The more I write, the new becomes old and the old becomes new. The more I write, I keep getting lost and found. The more I write, the more I discover how little I know. The more I write, the more I listen closely. The more I write, the more I am open to every happenstance as an opportunity to learn. The more I write, I find more questions that don’t need to be answered right away or even at all. The more I write, life gets a little more beautifully urgent – the “don’t wait” mantra rings in my head a little louder. The more I write, the more I want to write.
Liking everything. That’s a big deal for me. Liking the messes and the spills and the emotional uncertainties of my day is a new thing. I have four daughters and a five year old son – emotional uncertainty is a certainty in our home. But writing what I see changes my perception of time and what is essential to me. I no longer look around and see only that annoying pile of lego underfoot or people’s crap strewn all over the stairs. I see a house that is lived in. When there are projects in piles all over the house, it was probably a good day of curious creating and as little as five years from now, my house won’t look like this. It might even be a little emptier, less bodies to bump into or step on by accident. One day, I will miss seeing the floor splattered with paint and those tiny fingerprints on the lower portion of the wall.
Right now, right here, I like what I see. And the more that I slow down to observe the sights and sounds of the world within and without, I want to write about it all. I don’t want to miss a thing.
I am ready for the next 75 days of writing. Thanks for coming along for the ride.
100 scribbles…hurriedly writing the here and now.