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Sometimes, the words come out wrong. We are faced with an ellipse with these tongues that rattle around inside of our heads. We have this pivotal movie scene in our minds with some glorious thing we are about to say, and it comes out clustered or with a frogged throat - and we fumble around and fuck it up.
For someone who has a love affair with adjectives and parsed sentences, there are times when the verbiage I reach for just doesn't cut the mustard. There is something amiss. I stroke the keys, like my tiny white pets, and I get them to do what they do, but they elude me. I am evaded by language. Dodged.
We all want to give the great speech. We want to be the one who inspires and who says just the right thing that cause the lights to come on in someone's life - but that happens maybe 0.000001 percent of the time.
The truth is, more often than not, our words are for shit. We can't explain what we mean. We forge on the forest floor of description, but we come up with blistered knees - wanting and exhausted. We search for that perfect phrase, but it's somewhere in the ether - in that moment before your dream connects with your awakened state, and everything magically makes sense.
The power of silence is so overlooked, but we need to adhere. Granted - we can't all be monks, but there is a deft power in shutting up and being present.
There is truth in just allowing the page to stay blank.
