All things considered: a compilation of random passing thoughts
"Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart."
Navigating the befogged Midwinter melancholy can take a toll on people that spend a lot of time alone. Some of us are affected more than others by the prevailing lower light, becoming pensive and chary. Some writers tend to isolate, self-conscious about publishing the minutiae of recurring darkness, feeling too exposed, "conspicuous as a rooster in a leafless tree." Too many moments pacing winter's cage; too many poems started and never completed or we just don't like the say, but know it's ours ― There is no solitude while loneliness abounds…There is no silence when silence is the only sound...
From both a writer and writer-reader perspective, no matter the hue of the writing's color pallet, for it to be palpable it must be molded from the clay of the author’s real life.... there are times when passionate writing exposes deeply personal, introspective raw truths. The quieter you become the more you can hear; a time to make peace with the gifts of our imperfections. The true nature of fractals repeat themselves as you continue to magnify the image.
A writer is always a writer, a thinker is always a thinker, it is a matter of being who you are…publishing is a choice, a season ― So for me it is the time and season for being a reader, a time to read the unread while taking a sojourn from publishing an unfinished life lay bare.
There are many writers here, new as well as long time members I have never found; so I will attempt to use all the site features to try and find and read the unread, not just my stream. Explore the “Random” feature as well as Latest and Classics.
There will be no big footprint left behind … just an anonymous reader
waiting for the wintertide to change. Just because I am not currently publishing does not mean I am not here.
"Reading is a means of thinking with another person's mind; it forces you to stretch your own." - Charles Scribner, Jr.*
A reader of poetry is something to be… rivers
"Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind."
William Wordsworth. 1770–1850
also syn·aes·the·sia (sĭn′ĭs-thē′zhə)
1. A condition in which one type of stimulation evokes the sensation of another, as when the hearing of a sound produces the visualization of a color.
2. A sensation felt in one part of the body as a result of stimulus applied to another, as in referred pain.
3. The description of one kind of sense impression by using words that normally describe another.
syn′es·thet′ic (-thĕt′ĭk) adj.