the problem

the problem with many of the sentences i write is that they are made out of words, often misspelled, but more often mis-used. i am not writing them as much as i am typing them. my typing is improving as my vocabulary declines. this would not be a problem were language my only medium of expression. but fortunately i have one other medium, which is silence.

and my ideal of silence is an active, dynamically Present silence… not the noisy cluttered kind of silence that often inhabits me. not the constraining kind of silence that tends to constrain me. quite the opposite. i’m talking about a silence that allows and hopes for things to happen outside of myself. a silence that stretches itself out towards the world while sitting deeply nestled upon it.

i really didn’t expect to go off on that tangent. i must admit, i am not even sure i understand it. i was only trying to find words to describe thoughts that are not at all formulated. it’s hard to articulate a feeling that hasn’t happened yet. it’s much easier to type it and see where that goes. it’s somehow much harder to be silent.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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