Words

It occurred  to me in this world of mobile phones, computers and the internet that the art of writing is dying.  How can this be possible where most of the information we seek is in the form of words? But is it really writing? Of course, you may say, for they give us the information we want, the knowledge we seek and surely that is sufficient! But do they move you? Do they stop and make you think? Do they change your perspective on life?

I have come to love reading the classics where the wrier painstakingly built an image of a scene through words, not only describing the scene, but also the emotion evoked, and then carefully placing in it characters that either complement or contrast the scene.

In my meager writings in these few blogs I have attempted, rather poorly, to do just that. To write words that not only paints a picture but moves the heart.  And even though, at times, it seems as though something may come of the words it always seems to elude.

Looking out into the little garden that surrounds the front of the house, the grass that was once green, through thirst and cold, has turned a lighter shade of beige.  The trees that were once pregnant with leaves, have shed their burden, standing stark naked against a grey August sky.  A light cold breeze nips through the air adding a crisp freshness to every breath that is taken. And even as it saps the warmth it energises and invigorates. A bird, feathers ruffled into a ball of fluff, perches on the telephone wire drawing a line between its supports emphasising its invasiveness in our lives. The sun, a blurred white ball,  tries to break through the barrier of clouds that will not yield.  And I a mere witness to the scene cannot help but stand in awe of the magnificence of the Artists Loving hand.

Were I to pick up a brush, pigments and canvas and try to recreate the scene or take my camera and try to capture the scene, it would not do justice to it not in the slightest. For this is a scene to be perceived and experienced not only by the eye, but by the heart and soul.  For even in its simplicity, in its everydayness, is beauty that is beyond compare.  

If we could stop, stop for just one moment and quite our busy minds, and take in the sights and sounds of these everyday scenes, that we take so much for granted, and for once feel it and let it touch our souls and in so doing contemplate. Contemplate the nature of the Artist then shall we truly be grateful for gifts bestowed upon us.  And that which keeps our minds occupied will fade into insignificance as the beauty and magnificence leaves us in awe.

And what greater gift can there be than to be grateful? ;-)