THE WRITER’S LOT: Sleepless nights

I have meant as I always do to write-up a post daily. Many things, all noteworthy are happening and I hem and haw and oh and ah about this and that and which event would make a great post. I will get to them eventually because as most writers know, ideas never go away. Not really. They hibernate but never really disappear. Often transmigrated as something else, into other stories but they never really go away. Or at least that is my experience which is why I often wish I had a purge button for the files inside my mind. When I haven’t written anything, the writing ghosts come to play and I can’t sleep as they mould and shape ideas and thoughts, from where I do not know but they formulate inside my skull. Last night as I tossed and turned and as always, perhaps abnormally, these thoughts must be written down. I keep a notebook, four in fact, beside my bed. One in the right hand night table, I’m right handed. And another underneath the bed on a writing-table that I use to write on at night, very useful. Oops, and two composition notebooks on the floor on the right hand side of the bed of course. Meaning, I obviously enjoy my sanity and need to have lots of writing implements available. Take from that what you will. Last night, what follows is what spewed forth. Again, take from it what you will. I’ll try not to edit.

What is this? What is a life? We all go through this, graced by our existence. Feeling it, thinking it but what is it, life? What is at the heart of a life? What defines our existence? These subtle nuances that make my life, that make me, me. How different are they from the individuality that makes you, you? How different and yet the same are we all to each other.

 GRACE. It is and as long as I can remember, been my favourite word. When it is someone’s name I am still awed by its meaning. The word sweeps my imagination, in movement, and in definition. Charm, elegance, attractiveness, courtesy, lithe, accomplishment, delicate, light, unlabored kindness,  what is fitting. I think it is grace that defines us all. The “graces” that have touched us or passed us by, define and shape who we are, and what we will, are still yet to become. How we handle grace or lack thereof speaks to our humility and our ability to be grateful. Lack can make us better as well as does abundance.  A good measure of character is how “graceful” we are under any circumstance, particularly troubling circumstances. When I think of grace I think of how well one carries oneself, how the food at my table should be praised, how the angels sing and how luck has blessed me with abundance, knowledge and all that is worth having. When I’m touched by grace as thankfully I often am, I feel exultation. I feel like the angels are singing at my door, inside my head. I feel like I have a connection to all that is Divine.

May Grace fill my days, and yours as well.

Did I mention that I love Stephen (Steve) King? Now there is a man touched by grace.

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