Quiet Nonsense

Today I choose not to fill the silence with music.  Somehow the quiet makes the breeze cooler, the sunlight brighter.  I don’t know why my senses choose to cooperate in this way, but I wish they would always do so.

Today I find peace bound in leather, soft and fragrant over the boards that protect the pages that hold the thoughts I had not so very long ago.  Those thoughts bring to life new ones, and isn’t it strange that I can find satisfaction and accomplishment simply by having new thoughts?

Today the river is calling me, but whenever I answer that call, I am filled with ideas and words that call me right back here, so that I can catch them before they fly away.  

Today I wonder about inspiration, about the way stories progress, about the difference--and the similarity--between story and meaning.  I wonder what meaning is.  I wonder how I can find it, and if I can someday create it.  Sometimes I wonder if I already have.

Today I do not question where I should be, or who I should be, or how I am failing, or how I am succeeding.  I just am, and there is something wonderful in that.