Outside my window, the day seems to move along quite pleasantly. There’s a gentle wind rustling the trees, a lazy sun playing peek-a-boo behind pockets of clouds drifting by, and sitting low on the ground across the street is a plant which unlike its big sisters is short and frail-like. Yet at this time of the year is princess of the plant kingdom in this neighborhood. Why? Because she lends the prettiest flowers in lavender that I have ever seen this side of town. I revel in its royal beauty from my window everyday.
Well, a lovely morning such as this calls for a nice walk up the hill. But part of me plead to stay indoors I wonder why. Okay, so I put up three choices—drawing, reading, and writing.
Let’s see.
I have a sketch pad here of light grained drawing paper and a pencil, an ordinary one. Not even a so-called artist’s pencil. The sketch pad is the size that allows me to bring it anywhere I want to. It fits into a ladies tote bag. So, this one holds many drawings already—a rural scene of fields and mountains, some designs of dresses and evening gowns, and one feeble attempt in water colors. Feeble is correct. So I set before me a blank page which admittedly matched the blank space in my mind. Drawing, like writing, is fired by inspiration. At times inspiration gets you deep in feverish creativity. Then again a moment comes when all you get is a blank page—like now. So I junk the idea of drawing.
I walk over to a stack of books in one end of the room. Sitting in a cozy chair with a good book and lemonade in one hand does sound like a good idea. So, I run my finger through the titles and come to one—‘Travel Light’. I’ve gone through this book before. It’s the kind that one wouldn’t mind coming back to over and over and over. But—not this time. Nope. So I tossed it over to the bed. It fell smack on top of my blue notebook.
It’s just a simple ordinary notebook--ringed, white lined pages, smooth paper. It’s always there on my bed with a ready pencil beside it--always there. You see, you’ll never know when the muses decide to throw fresh ideas or inspiration in your direction. So I meant to be ready to catch it down on paper right away-- thus the notebook on my bed. Yeah, the bed is where I write and do drafts before the computer gets it for final copy.
I don’t feel the muses stirring this time though, not yet anyway, but I pick up the twins and prop myself up on the bed. “Twins” is what I call these two inseparable tools of any writer’s trade. It goes back a long way before the age of typewriters and laptops. Well, everybody knows that.
Paper and pen-- One isn’t good without the other. Each completes the other. Like many other things in life.
Coffee and coffee cup
Water and bath
Hair and comb
Horse and carriage
Wheels and cars
Cars and gas
Flowers and vases
Cameras and films
Bra and woman’s breast
Razor and man’s beard
Teachers and classrooms
Students and schools
So what’s a bird without its wings?
What’s a fin without a fish?
A candle isn’t, without its flames
No winners or losers, without a game.
Life seems to be all about two’s — twins, pairs, opposites, contrasts, cause-and-effect, checks-and-balances -- sometimes pleasant, sometimes not. It all depends on how you look at it. The message I get in this set-up is that we don’t live in a solitary world. We stand connected to people and things. Always there will be someone or something at the other end of your own thoughts, views, beliefs, and perceptions-- to confirm, affirm, curtail, and contradict you. And I think, like paper and pen, it’s there to complete you. Isn’t ‘two’ a good number?! Oh yeah, the muses have kicked up writer's dust alright--'sure got that down on paper. And you know what, it still looks like a good morning for a nice walk. I think I'll take that walk. Ciao!
posted on Wednesday, September 21, 2005 12:36 PM
