We sing to the find the beauty, we fight to find the song

I wrote this in a comment on another blog recently. I decided to jot it down because it was speaking to me, rather loudly. Sometimes I push the words, and sometimes the words push me. These ones made themselves known across a fleeting precipice of my imagination meeting up with my thoughts and starting a fire.

When you think about it, this whole writing thing is such a tenuous matter. The nuance of what goes into a piece and what should be removed would seem, on the face of it, to be akin to tooling around under the hood- just a matter of nuts and bolts and gaskets. Except, writing is sort of like tooling around under the hood and somehow building a Hemi that is capable of space travel.

This line I wrote left me ponderous. This line whose particular sentiment can be easily explained as an emotional response to a post I was reading about the tragedy in Florida last week. And so, okay . . that’s the why of it, but that can’t explain the how of it. How is it that those words showed up in that particular moment? That’s what turns me on.

A writer’s brain feasts on the scrabble, never knowing what they might gather from the voices in their heads. Our imaginations are a natural disaster of the real and the unreal, the known and the unknown, the here and now and the never was. And from this feast we cull and carve and oftentimes, cry.

I like to think we’re communicating with the cosmos when we feast on the scrabble and make sense of the voices and sublime our imaginations. We step inside whole new worlds without ever leaving our feet. And sometimes we find a simple line that makes us wonder aloud. The song and the fight, all wrapped up in this beautiful mystery.

The not knowing is what’s lovely.

83 thoughts on “We sing to the find the beauty, we fight to find the song

  1. I love this! I often feel like the words don’t actually come from me; I’m just the instrument. I don’t think this for grandiose reasons, I think the universe talks to anyone who will listen. And we all play our part in delivering a message.

    Liked by 3 people

    • You crazy rabbit! Nonsense! You have a beautiful voice!
      And hey, writing to find yourself IS the greatest gift, in my humble opinion. The writing IS the thing, for me. To center me, to afford me a peace I do not feel otherwise.
      Thank you for the lovely comment

      Peace and writing

      Liked by 2 people

  2. I suppose I don’t remember all your pieces, but I’m pretty sure this is my favorite. I love this piece. I love everything you said here. And the way you said it!

    Liked by 2 people

  3. This whole writing thing is indeed a tenuous matter. And reading other peoples’ writings makes me ponder my words even more. There are times when stories write themselves and others that are such a struggle.
    I feel I am still trying to find my voice. I dunno. Even in my little Friday Fictioneers stories of 100 words, it is mostly just me, sharing a part of my experience. Hardly ever fiction, truth be told… Then I read people like you who actually have something to say and then I wonder what the hell I am doing here in the first place.

    And yes, I have had those moments where I end up where I am driving to with no notion how I got there – and no, was not drunk!

    By the way, how do we know which of you miscreants is writing, anyway? As a most new follower of your’n… 😉

    Liked by 2 people

    • Quebec!
      Okay, that matter of who is writing. It’s Marc. Linds B wrote Champagne Girl for her beautiful lady. When such a thing as love comes along, it can be inspiring. But Linds B, like you, tends to doubt how very gifted she really is at this writing thing. And so, to the two of you, stop thinking so much and please keep writing. Because I love your writing(s) and I am happy when I read you. And most of all, because you have a truly beautiful voice when you write.
      Imma post this comment by its lonesome, lest it becomes a rambling mess that might require chapters . . .

      Liked by 2 people

      • Quebec! Yeah… that’s where I’m from … so, is that my new nickname?
        I figured it was you, Marc(o) but as this is the first piece of yours that I am reading, (and not a wonderful exchange of comments) I wanted “for to make sures” 🙂 .
        I am going to go read Champagne Girl so I can read the difference in your styles.
        And, thank you. I will keep on writing then! With such encouraging words, I’d be a fool not to…

        Liked by 2 people

        • Yep, it’s your new nickname! And please, Marco would be awesome. I love it when people call me Marco. It reminds me of when mi abuelita called me Marco as a boy.
          First piece? You’ve read more than that Quebec. And yes, a wonderful exchange of comments is what always happens!
          Encourage Linds B! I think she tires of me telling her how talented a writer she is. I am blessed to call her a friend.
          Same with you!

          Liked by 1 person

    • Hi Quebec (again),

      I probably could have wrapped this up inside that first comment, but I wanted to speak to you directly, as far as your thoughts on writing, yours.
      You’re a joy. You’re a piece of writing I look forward to. You provoke thought, you incite rebellion (now and then) and you inspire. Your being here, on WordPress, makes this place feel like home.
      As for the driving thing, I do it more than I care to admit! And no, never drunk.
      Thank you for your lovely presence here. It always makes my day!


      Liked by 2 people

      • All good, Sir Marco – the speaking directly, that is. I kinda like it.

        Jeez… How much of my stuff have you read, anyway? We are “new” to each other… thanks to Frank – he’s fabulous, isn’t he?

        And, for you to know the Strumbellas, well, ya have to be Canadian too, eh? What neck of the woods do you hail from?

        I am trying to write more but damn. Life gets in the way. Young adult sons, household crap, preparing to sell said house, trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up – you’d think by 53 and 5/6 I’d know by now…

        Liked by 2 people

        • We are always learning, lol.
          I’m 51 and yanno what? I thought I would be scared crap of 50, but nah. I dig it actually.
          I found the Strumbellas on Pitchfork and instantly fell in love. I’m a Bronx (NY) born boy who loved Quebec when I visited as a boy. My musical crushes run the gamut.
          Write when you write. And yes, we are new to each other’s writings, but it’s like that person at a party you instantly gravitate to and just chill with. Sometimes the connection just happens. Glad it did.
          Sir Marco? You mean . . . I was knighted? lol.

          Liked by 1 person

          • That we are!
            I’m loving the 50’s, quite frankly. I feel no longer the need to put up with nonsense. Though that doesn’t mean I can’t have lots of fun! Became a widow four months before turning 51 so, after a period I deemed appropriate to mourn (still miss him but life is too beautiful and must go on) I decided to go out there and have me lots of fun.
            Da Bronx! You know… I’ve been dying to go visit that area – has become quite the foodie destination, ya know 😉 As if you don’t…
            Hmmm… maybe now I will have a personal tour guide when I finally get there…


  4. “Our imaginations are a natural disaster…”
    Mine certainly is. Probably more disaster than natural…
    Maybe I prefer writing when ideas just jump into my head. But I do hate when that happens at inconvenient times… like while driving or in the shower. But maybe I like the words that I struggle to find, too, because when I find them, I feel like I’ve achieved something amazing. I probably haven’t… but it feels like a hard-fought win.
    Lately, I’ve been struggling more than I’ve been writing. I haven’t been truly proud of anything I’ve written for quite a while. And the fiction… I love writing fiction, but I’ve totally lost that voice. I don’t know what happened to it… I’ve written fiction since I was a child… and I miss it. That’s where I can truly get lost in my imagination. I think reality has a hold on me lately and it won’t let me escape…

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Artists attune to the collective unconscious. I heard a great radio interview with the guy from the Grateful Dead the other day (sorry I dont know his name) but he was saying the intellectual property rights are a stupid concept as none of us own ideas or creativity which comes as a gift to us desending or rising up in us or upon us and then taking us away. I have experiences of reading back things i wrote years ago and going Wow ! where did that come from? I have reams and reams of what I call channelled writing. At one point I just wrote all day in my PJs when I was in a breakdown and there was amazing stuff that came through from what seemed like another source. We dont own any of it we are merely channels for a lot of it and then some comes from our wisdom, pain or suffering and may be an externalisation of stuff trapped in our body. : See John Lees book Writing from the Body. Hugs… great thought provoking post.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I do believe we channel these things from the mystic. I do. And that mystic is borne of spirits who are talking to us.
      This sounds crazy to some, but I believe we communicate with spirits when we are babies. You every watch a baby stare at something intently? Like uber intently? I believe we are tuned into the spirit world at a very young age. It’s only with knowledge, and with being told such things are ‘make believe’ do we remove that connection. It’s sad, really.
      So . . combine that with our pasts, and it creates quite the potent combination.
      And absolutely right on about all that intellectual property business. EVERYTHING is shared, experienced, remembered and re-invented. I agree with that.
      Thank you for such thoughtful comments, and thank you for the book recommendation as well!



  6. “A writer’s brain feasts on the scrabble, never knowing what they might gather from the voices in their heads” that line tho. The honest to goodness truth of it…. sometimes the words, thoughts and ideas are all over the place. I can only hope to get them down before they are off again. I’m often glad no one else resides inside my head haha

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Words – sometimes we struggle with them – other times are choices are profound worthy of serious pondering. Sometimes those words are spoken – other times written – …. and some of the best are mere thoughts that are never recorded. But when all is said and done, words matter.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Frank,

      Sometimes there are no words. But I’m thankful when there are. And yes, I have experienced this thing you speak of where I think of something whilst running or doing something and poof! It’s gone before I have the chance to jot it down.
      Mostly, I try not to flesh out an idea unless I have a notepad or my laptop to transfer it to. Too many thoughts flooding my brain make me anxious.

      Liked by 1 person

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