Tuesday, March 13, 2012

The Soft Hue of Words

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I milk the warm day for all its worth, entranced by the room backlit in soft hues of sunlight. The gentle breeze breaks against the screen into tendrils of whispers against my skin. This baby blue sky is better suited for a newborn nursery than a New York March day. Nature’s kiss of spring? What of winter I wonder, he never had a chance to unfurl and stretch his muscles. His blanket covering of white was nothing but shredded effusions, thin transparent foam tapped off a brew that disappeared as quickly as it formed.

I’m not the only one confused…trees stand naked of foliage, withstanding the prodding strokes of airstream exuberance, refusing to bud in light of the impassioned warmth of the day. Mother Nature could use a few lessons in foreplay. Then again, she might have overplayed her hand wrestling with old man winter all last season.

My mind contains seasons of fodder; enough to tire of winter’s spent sorrow. He lost days, more like months to his adversary, while hard ground gave way to loam earth.

I wonder how many rows you can plow through a fertile mind, before enough wordage is planted and sown early by a torrent of doubt. Will we drown in word vomit - the overgrown algae choking off ponds of thought, reflections strangled by vines’ before they know the sun’s delirious rays? Spring may be clawing at the door, but there is still a winter storm brewing inside locked doors.

In this farmstead reality, words are hard jagged edges tearing skin, down to bone. I don’t have enough language, enough vocabulary to swab up the liquid life that drains from every pore. How is it something so painful and elusive can leave me breathless and wanting. Why not find an easier path to tread, one that soothes my empty psyche and wraps the soles of my feet with eloquence – gentle grass stained moccasins of verbiage. Some days I don’t think I have the tools to work the plantation of my mind or to climb these mountains of sentence structure, paragraphs and pages.

Boulders of doubt push me over the edge, but I can’t let go of the ledge, the valley doesn’t hold enough words to break my fall. I’m digging furrowed welts deep in the mountains face down to split nails and bloody fingers searching for gems of sanity to hang onto. I lose my grip (on sanity) and tumble head over heels down to a pussy willow tundra of open books.

My eyes flutter against the brilliant light as sunlight dances over nap swollen eyelids. The wind blows against the screen and chill air pinpricks my skin. I smile. Nothing but a dream about the soft hues of words floating around a writer’s mind on a faux spring day.

“It is necessary to write, if the days are not to slip emptily by. How else, indeed, to clap the net over the butterfly of the moment? For the moment passes, it is forgotten; the mood is gone; life itself is gone. That is where the writer scores over his fellows: he catches the changes of his mind on the hop.” ~ Vita Sackville-West
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59 comments:

  1. A beautiful way to think of writing. This unusual onslaught of spring has me thinking of new projects.

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    1. Thanks Janel. Me too! (Hugs)Indigo

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  2. What a beautiful quote to finish off such a lovely piece of writing! We really do have to catch the imagery before it slips away for good!

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    1. Thanks Jemi! I keep a moleskin notebook and pen with me at all times for that very reason. (Hugs)Indigo

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  3. I love your beautiful prose. I also had no idea that you lived in New York. That must be wonderful. I have all these ideas of what it must be to live on the east coast instead of Utah where I'm stuck.

    I have to say that I'm kind of tired of winter. We did have some snow here but it was way below normal. Am I sorry that the temperatures have been unseasonably warm? Not one bit. Do I feel that global climate change is true? Yep. Do I feel that all of humanity is going to suffer for the changes that we have wrought on the climate? Yep.

    However, I don't miss winter. If I had the money, I'd move to a land of eternal summer.

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    1. Thanks Michael! I actually live upstate. I know a lot of people visualize the city when I say that. I wouldn't trade the mountain views around the area for anything. I'm in love with the seasonal changes (just not out of context), not sure if I could live in yearly warm climate.

      I do agree this years season eclipse seems to be a dire warning about climate change. (Hugs)Indigo

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  4. Evocative and beautiful ... just floating along with the flow of your words ... wonderful.

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  5. "...wonder how many rows you can plow through a fertile mind, before enough wordage is planted and sown early by a torrent of doubt. Will we drown in word vomit - the overgrown algae choking off ponds of thought, reflections strangled by vines’ before they know the sun’s delirious rays? Spring may be clawing at the door, but there is still a winter storm brewing inside locked doors."

    Ooof. That took my BREATH away.

    love you my friend!

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    1. Love you too sweetie! I know when I reread over what I'd written that phrase had the same effect on me. I had a moment of wondering where those words came from. (Hugs)Indigo

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  6. The words like this past winter are there capturing either at times is beyond us and left to the vagaries of our time, this hour, this moment. Indigo I doubt that there will ever be not enough words within you to not break your fall.

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    1. Thanks dear friend!I'm trying to live in the moment, otherwise it seems like a confusing jumble of emotional jargon. I truly hope there will always be enough words to break my fall. (Hugs)Indigo

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  7. ... Mother Nature isn't the only woman in need of a lesson in foreplay..! But I don't blame her, really. If I had to wrestle around with someone as indelicate as Old Man Winter, it would take a little while before I could remember my tender side too..!

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    1. Hi Mark,

      I don't think she's going to remember her tender side any time soon. (Hugs)Indigo

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  8. We'll have to pay for this winter-less season just as we have to pay for these words we write.

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    1. Without a doubt there will be repercussions, words and weather alike. ;) (Hugs)Indigo

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    2. Hmmm. I'm rereading my post and thinking, wow, so cynical, Tony. ;-P

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    3. Ha! Always one in every crowd. I found it ominous, yet true. Writing can be a taxing bitch when she wants to be. You dear professor, will always be endearing. (Hugs)Indy

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  9. this read like a practice exercise, like you took one moment between turning pages in a book you are reading while the light spilled in, and you shrunk yourself down to take a tour of what that moment is like inside your world of words. i know you start off with milking the day, but i feel like this moment is a radiantly typical of the day, where you can run amazing obstacle courses with prose if you like, or build temples to your thoughts with sentences. i see you bathing in words. it's a beautiful place to be.

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    1. Thanks Ed! Sometimes it is a an exercise in writing, starting out on an obstacle course unsure where the words will take me.

      I rather like the thought of bathing in words. I would be tempted to let the bath water out, to flow down the drain into deeper waters. (Hugs)Indigo

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  10. smiles....what lovely descriptions...it is necessary to write...for me...every day...i dont know that i could drown in them unless i held them in and they choked out the oxygen...this is really well written...i love it when its all visual like that...

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    1. Thanks Brian. I'm all about the visual when I write. When I think of drowning in words, I visualize diving into the depths of the sea and swimming deeper until I drown in a sea of words. Put that way, it seems like an evocative way to go. (Hugs)Indigo

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    2. if i had to choose a way to go it would top the list...smiles....

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  11. Nature has always been uncontrollable, but you're right. The seasons are confused and the vegitation follows suit. Funny how I was just writing to someone who said I was being economic with my words. I said, "not usually. Most often I vomit words. Enjoy the brevity while you can.) :)

    This was beautifully written Ingigo!

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    1. Thanks sweet friend! I have been wading the murky depths of brevity lately, the tide is tugging me deeper...(Hugs)Indigo

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  12. You're such an awesome writer. I love to write but could never express myself as beautifully as you do. I love stopping by here. I used to come by more often but lost your link somehow. Just found it so will be able to keep up with you now.

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    1. Thanks Barb! Glad to have you back in the fold. (Hugs)Indigo

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  13. Such a unique winter, a wonderful journey to spring, and a beautiful entry.

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  14. "I don’t have enough language, enough vocabulary to swab up the liquid life that drains from every pore." That's right where I'm at today. Thank you for this post.

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    1. Thank you for your support sweet Milo. We all have these days, never enough...(Hugs)Indigo

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  15. Nature is uncontrollable, uncomfortable at times...the seasons mirror emotions...spring will enter before winter has finished... Beautifully written.

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    1. Thanks Susie! I agree, the seasons somehow always mirror emotions. (Hugs)Indigo

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  16. Hi Indigo,

    What a delightful piece, full of just the right imagery and fluidity that makes you such an inherent writer. Writers are a collection of thoughts multiplied by experience and circumstance. It's our job to capture the moment before it is siphoned into the ethers. Keep catching the words before they escape, they make good company on the cold lonely nights. Hugz my friend.

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    1. Thanks Alexys!

      "It's our job to capture the moment before it is siphoned into the ethers. Keep catching the words before they escape." I couldn't imagining not. Love where your words take me. (Hugs)Indigo

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  17. Word vomit....
    Such graphic expression, I have had almost no time on the internet but over the next few days There will be more time to delve into your archive...

    Wander

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    1. Hi Chris,

      I agree, word vomit is rather graphic. Fits those streams of thoughts, that come out of nowhere and demand space on the page in front of us.

      The archives will always be there, read at your leisure and enjoyment. Hopefully over the weekend I can jump back into yours. (Hugs)Indigo

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    2. Hi Indigo I hope the writing is going well...Back to your archives tonight, at least three:-)

      Wander

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  18. What a beautiful way to start the day - a trip to your blog!

    Winter over here in London was just two weeks in February, not that I'm complaining, its the darkness I grow weary of.

    I agree that its the changing of seasons that makes me feel alive. I have lived in places where the seasons are not clearly defined and think I now appreciate the seasons much more because of that. By the end of summer I long for those clear crisp autumnal days. Just as by the end of the darkness of winter I take joy in the spring.

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    1. Thanks Jane! I couldn't imagine living without the seasonal changes. They're a measuring stick on which to mark the passing of a year. Autumn tends to be my favorite season of them all.

      The best part of Spring is the longer days and the sunlight to go with it. (Hugs)Indigo

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  19. You made me feel the flow of thoughts, emotions, and conversations through the rhythm of the season..the turning of the earth.

    Very nice!

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    1. Thanks Lou! A wonderful compliment to any writer, to know someone felt our words simply by reading. (Hugs)Indigo

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  20. Every time I read your writing, I get goosebumps. Amazing. <3 <3 <3

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  21. Wow Indigo! Your sustained metaphor is wonderful, and language beautiful. We've had the same odd winter and spring here in Wisconsin...I miss the ozone layer! Oh, and I really love your quote by Anne Morrow Lindberg. I recently finished reading her 'Gifts from the Sea' and really enjoyed it.

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    1. Thanks Mary! I miss the ozone layer too. Strange having a NY winter with hardly any snow at all.

      'Gift From the Sea' is a wonderful book. (Hugs)Indigo

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  22. .....and winter was pitifully sad here too. Usually, when we switch to DSL I am discombobulated for the first few weeks because I am not yet ready to let go of the security of dark winter days. This year? Hardly noticed the change, because winter has been like an extended autumn without the colors.

    Anyway...there are so many gems in this beautiful, beautiful piece that I am leaving filled with wonders in my mind. Exquisite, Indigo.

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  23. What beautiful photos and words, Indigo. Winter in England is usually quite a barren, dreary time... but there is still beauty to be found.

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  24. ...you are indeed a wordsmith to be reckoned with. Well done, Indigo!

    El

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  25. Heck, i'm in MN and march is typically our snowiest month. And today i'm wearing shorts and t-shirts and i found onions and garlic sproting in my vegetable garden.

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  26. Lovely words to read while we wait for Spring. Over here on the West Coast, our fair city of Vancouver has really gotten it's share of snow, sleet and wind this year. I'm just hoping that this means our summer will be nice and pleasant.

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  27. "He lost days, more like months to his adversary, while hard ground gave way to loam earth."

    Really love that, Indigo.

    And the Vita Sackville-West quote made me smile.

    Spring has truly arrived where I am and I can't tell you how happy it makes me.

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  28. Great imagery, gripping writing. Hope to see some of your complete fiction pieces soon! Keep writing!

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  29. this piece is like a walk through early spring alongside an avid poet. so much to see, feel and drink in. thanks:)

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  30. wonderful metaphor. i smiled reading the play of words

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  31. This is beautiful. We're having the same weird winter here.

    I've been reading Masanobu Fukuoka's One Straw Revolution. He advocates no-plow farming, arguing that tilling the soil disrupts it irrevocably. He throws down barley and rice amid fields of white clover, lets the plants grow in harmony with each other.

    I'm thinking we can treat the fertile grounds of our minds in a similarly kind fashion.

    Elizabeth Twist

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  32. There's nothing nicer, or more inspiring, than a warm, slightly unseasonably early spring day. :) I hope you're doing well!

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  33. Indigo, I am so sorry I am just now learning about Pickles. When the family moved in I didn't get much computer times. What a shock for such a young loving dog and since I am now going through this with Zoey I understand completely the pain. Hugs to you. I hope Pickles meets my Zoey at the Rainbow bridge and becomes friends.

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Thank you for giving my silence a voice, my muse your words, and taking the time to discover my prose.