“This is democracy, I suppose, and so is the toilet-papering of Washington known as the tea party with its simple self-contradictory platform — if you are in favor of Medicare and Social Security and national defense and you are opposed to big government, then the sun’s so hot you froze to death, Susanna don’t you cry. But these fake patriots in their play tricorners are simply thrilled to death by all the attention.”
-Garrison Keillor
few things are more powerful than a well-crafted statement. arranged correctly, words can knock you flat. many consider writing cumbersome, daunting. perhaps it’s because we live in a world where our attention is spliced. incredibly spliced. few possess the patience to sit, envision, write, and edit. requires too much time.
writing is a process. like painting. it requires patience and the knowledge that your body of work can always be reshaped, edited, and enhanced. there’s really no “end product.” not really. i like the fluidity of writing. the uncertainty, the possibility of it all.
maybe that’s why i admire strong writers. it demands humility - a humility on so many levels.
Maps
there is something seriously enchanting about a map. i’m not referring to the map of the united states on my dinner placemat as a kid or the one from my 1992 elementary school history book.
i mean the ones that were created 400 years ago. the frameworthy ones. the ones that ooze artistic value. the ones that exhibit a romantic, old-world quality. the ones that have the ornate legend with its swirls and shading and the uncannily perfect cursive handwriting. the ones that required as much care, diligence, and attention to detail as any portrait or landscape demanded. the ones where you can nearly see the craftsman’s hand. the ones where you envision cortes discovering it beneath some boulder and then using it to uncover a brilliant, unknown land.
i like those.
i think it’s because i revere those curious and daring souls who ventured off in search of something.
no gps.
they had a compass, the stars, and the wind. maybe. they were confident the world was flat. they realized they would probably be swallowed up in one colossal wave and erased without a blink, or a care, from the face of the earth. yet they still went forth with hope, gusto, and bravery. talk about manly men.
i admire their desire to pursue adventure, and ultimately, their insatiable yearning to discover something unexplored.
