Will I click "Publish" without first polishing?
Craft. Polish. Publish.
Do not all humans engage in such?
Well, except on X-Twitter maybe; or any social media where one chooses to hide behind an anonymous persona used to blast out their rage or whatever else they want to blast while hiding in plain sight.
But it's not really anonymous; there is a soul behind, underneath, within, around the words and letters and punctuation.
That is, unless the persona is of a Pattern Engine.
The Pattern Engine (aka Artificial Intelligence) does not have a soul with emotions, feelings, doubts, beliefs, neurotransmitters, and five-plus senses...
~*~
I listened as my good friend opened up about their challenges. I felt a deep sense of pointlessness as my friend shared one disappointment after another, decades of it. As they spoke, the title of a song came to mind - A Man of Constant Sorrow.
My heart hurt for my friend; I have lived a life of pointlessness-feeling for over a decade now.
I have written of it often.
"Does anything bring you a sense of awe? A sense of joy?" I asked.
"Nature," my friend responded. "When I look at the sky on my job-commute, I am in awe. The trees, the clouds, the sun, the moon. The moon grounds me..."
As they spoke of this awe, I heard and felt a change in their tone.
My friend felt lighter after sharing their burden, and we both felt more connected.
This is what souls do.
~*~
One of the topics from our conversation was about how details matter and that noticing them matters.
Upon waking the morning after our conversation, my first-recognized thought was an image of the word "pointlessness."
Then I thought, "A synonym of pointless is dull."
Immediately I pictured a pencil with a dull lead and a pencil with a sharp lead and the strokes each makes upon the paper -- one sharp and clear, the other a bit fuzzy.
Then, my mind recalled a dream from my sleep state: the friend and I built back a bicycle whose parts had been scattered.
Then the thought, "Dullness is unclear, foggy. There is a lack of detail."
Then, " Ah, why bother with details; what's the point?"
Thus, I realized this connection between this feeling of pointlessness and a lack of attention to detail. Why care about the details when there is no point?
Writing that out now seems simpletonish.
On the other hand, I recognize a kernel of truth.
A few weeks ago, I thought about maybe writing a series of what a day is like for me, the nitty-gritty details. My immediate thought after pondering it for a moment was, "Boy, that'd be boring."
And then, "But that's the point."
Meaning the mundanity of the same tasks, day-in and day-out; tasks that cannot be skipped if I am to remain mobile in some capacity.
Part of what inspired this idea was rereading the book Endurance: Shackleton's Incredible Voyage by Alfred Lansing. It was my third time reading it, and I'll probably read it again someday. Obviously, it is one of my all-time favorite books. But this time, Hubby and I read it aloud to each other. It was Hubby's first time reading it. We both agree that the intimate details are what bring the book so poignantly to life.
Could I do the same with writing about disabled life?
If I follow through on the series, I feel like I would be inviting people into the reality of the disabled. And that is, at least part of, my heart/intent. It's not just about Carol, but all those who navigate the details of disability and caregiving; both involve a labor of love.
That's what souls do...
~*~
I'm able to ride my back again...
My first ride back in the saddle in over 28 months was on August 30, 2025.
I've now logged 137.45 miles; 4.11 of those on my stationary, indoor trainer.
I would have more miles logged, but I was without a bike for three weeks.
The cold weather is beginning now, so I won't be able to ride as much.
But there is more pointfulness to riding my indoor trainer; if I'm alive come spring and still progressing in my ability to function, I can once again pedal outdoors.
That helps give me motivation.
This is what souls do...
~*~
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| New River Trail at Fries Junction, 10/13/25 |
