Green Static Motion
Rekindling my love for reading and writing
Much has been said. Little has been done. With no negative connotation, the latter happened due to the former; which is good.
I lost my hand at writing, and the cold ink makes writing more stubborn and forced than anticipated. I lost my eye for reading, a terribly sad truth. I miss it so, the fact quite literally changes me, divides me.
I told Him that I cannot look at a plant for more than it is. The stream of thought ends before it starts. I have no exercised vocabulary ready to help me immerse myself in the possibility of potted nature. I catch myself thinking in surprise ‘’it’s merely a plant’’, “yes, it’s green and it has leaves of various shapes and sizes, the soil could do some upcycle”, and the pot… well, I either like it or not.
It takes me long minutes of effort to decompose what is there in front of me. I used to look at plants and see life, see the embodiment of living. Compare the shapes of leaves with each other, and how each came to be. There would be so much life sprung from the ‘ground’ whenever a plant would be added to a corner of a room.
Plants, to me, are the definition of green static motion. When looking at stems, sometimes light beams travel up and down. Leaves would dance on the song of the wind.
These are the kind of thoughts that would flash by. Now, with the ink drying in my pens, pages remaining blank, and books sitting unread; the thoughts are far from reach.
I’m longing to describe how light comes through His window, how warm tea makes my palms tingle, how good it is to be out in the wind, well dressed.
I’ve been writing. I’ve been reading. Little. The last book I read sparked a twinkle in me. More on that soon.