I haven't got a single way to write about all of it.
That's why I need to spend more time with my new friend C'elle, practicing writing, in that spot in the forest.
That's why I need to just start somewhere, right here, with the simple things:
I'm sitting in front of the computer screen, Tal is talking to his brother on the phone, Nemo is asleep on her favorite armchair, my knee is humming as it jumps up and down tensely because of the words flowing between my brain and the tips of my toes trying to find a way out.
I'm learning so much -- I'd love to share it all.
I drink coffee in the morning and joy fills me.
I walk along the streets of Bellingham and joy fills me.
Moments of inspiration are amorphic, untouchable,
So delicate, so encompassing,
So full and so joyful,
And their vastness makes them almost illusive
Makes them unholdable
Except for the little end-tails
The exclamation marks at the end
The aftertaste of a sweet dream.
I feel the touchable things around me
And that's all I can possibly write about:
The coffee, the streets, the outline of an experience larger than the sum of its components,
full of exploration, illumination, realization, love.