I want to convey JOY in my writing. I listen to sampled noise and remixed violins on my walks while I look up at the sunlight shimmering in the trees and remind myself not to forget. Joy is not a metaphor or a memory or any other brand of clever word combo meal served up easy in bright, audience tested packaging. Joy is a simultaneous letting go and opening up to the electric gold of the unified field--the formlessness that exists beyond all forms...
Joy is at once the easiest and hardest thing.
My purpose here is to stretch the canvas and paint the broad strokes:
How the world is a stage--unveiling itself endlessly between curtains.
And how the world is a sponge--holding in all that is given.
The world is a pink lemonade everlasting gobstopper that makes my eyes water under purple streetlights.
1 comment:
The concept of painting in broad strokes has come up several times to me since yesterday.
Maybe it's time for me to pick up the brush.
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