My space to work out some of my most complicated, nagging thoughts, not to mention a meditative opportunity to reflect on and examine some of my assertions, beliefs, assumptions, sentiments, feelings, plans, thoughts and relationships in a way that I might appreciate new, novel and perhaps helpful and informative perspectives. There is never any promise with this activity that I will come to any epiphanic conclusion; but conclusions are never good substitutions for trails of thoughts, pathways of reflection, alleyways of contemplation. Finding the ideal conditions for expressing and articulating thoughts is what is writing is about, limiting the form to a medium of a certain kind, much like painting. And, in my arrogance, I want to say that it is a preferred form: that, unlike painting or music, it provides us - its presumed users - with a level of precision, detail and pointedness (that is, in the most skilled and diligent of its users) hardly found elsewhere. But this, I think, is an unjustified conceit: it is merely another way to represent 'reality' or to muse on the features and aspects of the world, which many have long purported it to reflect and mirror cleanly: a whole issue on its own.
For now, all I care about is that writing is like prayer for me: my genuflection to a god that, in our creation, could be.
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