I find I have nothing to say. No, that’s not right. I have too much to say. There are too many different thoughts for me to hand you any one thought-gem, golden as honey and as satisfying as sex. Snippets I can manage, but not coherence.
Example:
Last night, I took the scenic route home. The road wends through blasted-out limestone cliffs capped with stunted cedars. The horizon is Hill Country. As I drove through the valley of beauty and wealth, the windows of distant houses reflected the blood-orange sunset. It looked like they were on fire.
Another Example:
The topic this week at Urban Zen was teachers and teaching. Consensus was that some of our most memorable teachings are gained by being around someone being herself. To which someone responded,
It’s awesomely terrifying to know that as long as I’m alive, someone might accidentally learn something from me.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot, and wondering what I am teaching the people who know me. I hope it is worthy of you.
And Again:
There is an old woman who walks her dog every morning. She wears color coordinating outfits (peach, blue, light green), and her dog has a thin whip of a tail that curls over his back. I hope that when I am that old, I will still be walking my dog and writing. I hope Mr. Aniko is with me. I hope that with another sixty years of practice, I’ll get really good at writing and better at being myself.
Finally:
My mind has these thoughts, and then there is the constant drizzle of partial thoughts: arugula and truffle-infused pizza, sadness at lost friends, excitement about going to Kauai, plots for novels years away from birth.
Coda:
Remember: I never promised coherence. This post is a Rorschach Test. Tell me what you see, and we’ll both know who we are.
I like these snippets, Aniko! Like your friend at Urban Zen, I too find it terrifying to think that somebody might conceivably accidentally learn something from me … I have absolutely no faith in my abilities as a teacher. As to what I’ve learned from you personally, I would say that high on that list is the value of commitment to one’s craft, together with the immense importance of kindness, even when it is displayed not in person but via the internet.
“I hope that with another sixty years of practice, I’ll get really good at writing.” – You’re already really good at writing. With another sixty years of practice, you’ll be fabulous, and I hope I’m still around to read your books!
I like the reference to “the constant drizzle of partial thoughts”, which pretty much sums up my own highly undisciplined mental processes.
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Thank you, Mari, for responding. I wasn’t sure this post was something I should make public. It is disjointed, but it is also an accurate representation of how I have been feeling for the past week. There are so many ideas and experiences coming at me, that I flow from one thing to the next without any transitions. It is like living in a poem rather than living in a novel.
I am glad that the things I have accidentally taught you are positive!
Here’s to another sixty years of us writing, and us getting to read one another’s works!
-aniko
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I love the prose describing your drive home. Pitch perfect!
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Thank you, Hunter!
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I see someone in the midst of life, enjoying the small things. That makes me smile.
E.
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There are many things to notice, small subtle things, and they are sources of unexpected emotion: joy, sadness, excitement.The only thing there is no room for is boredom! Even a perfectly silent moment has layers of sound, you just have to be still enough to experience them.
We are on the way to wonder!
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Ah, yes. Life is a wonderful muddle, isn’t it?
Aniko snags it perfectly.
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Some weeks are a bit more muddled than others, but accepting that sometimes that is the case goes a long way to making it not only bearable, but exciting.
Thanks for the compliment – and for reading this!
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I see someone who meets life with kindness, and sees good in everyday small moments.
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I try. There are plenty of instances where I’m neither as understanding nor as kind as I could aspire to be, but those are opportunities to learn about myself. We are both sensitive to the small moments – I can tell it from your writing, and I think that sets up a nice resonance between us.
Where resonance = friendship! 🙂
-aniko
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Awwwww, thank you! I like you too!
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You’re welcome! I’m glad that the internet has given us this opportunity. It is like living in a sci-fi future to not have geography as a (absolute) barrier.
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Love the description! Your blog always reminds me that I need to slow down and savor the moment. Oh, and Kauai?? Very exciting!
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I am very excited about Kauai! It’s going to mean making alterations in my usual holiday eating. Things look different when you know you aren’t going to be buried under bulky sweaters! 😉
You know, my blog reminds me to enjoy the present, too. That is a large reason I write it: so that I can make sense of and appreciate the moments. I started this as part of that “THOU AUTHOR MUST HAVE BRANDING!” thing, and it’s ended up not being that at all. I’m all right with that, especially when lovely people like you visit and take a moment to connect.
Thanks!
-aniko
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Wow, excellent post. Pretty inspiring…I think I need to do this sometime 🙂
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Thanks, Jonathan! I’ve really been enjoying the way your blog has alternated between more writer-centric posts (book formatting) and reader-centric posts (serial stories). I keep thinking I should probably add some sort of structure like that to my blog, but my complete randomness seems to come more naturally to me. 🙂
Thanks for stopping by!
-e
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