I often start my blog by typing whatever is in my mind. I get halfway down a blank line, and I look at the words there to judge if I deem them worthy of continuing. Sometimes the words are melancholy, and I don’t want to dwell there. So away they go, and I begin again. Sometimes the words are irritating, and my mood turns sour before I get to type out ten words. I hold down delete until the cursor stops moving. Most times, I’ll practice this ritual several times before landing on a thread I feel worthy of developing. The simple act of typing them sometimes proves their worth.
Maybe I have given up too soon. Maybe dwelling in the melancholy could help me to unearth some long-hidden pain. Maybe digging at the irritation for a few minutes would help me to let it heal. Instead, I backspace until the worthy appears. And while what remains becomes a work of heart, I feel loss at erasing thoughts. Perhaps something beautiful could have appeared from what’s missing.
I sometimes wonder how many untold stories I have erased to get to the ones I really want. Were those words bad thoughts? Maybe sometimes. Sometimes they were silly. Sometimes they were empty. And yet, like friendships, sometimes I give up on them before they have the chance to fully form, and I erase them before they have time to bloom. They may have become edifying. They may have become a precious. They may have been just what I needed. But now I’ll never know.
DAY 293 HOMEWORK: Don’t give up too soon. Something that may not look like much may become exactly what you need.