What happened when I stopped listening

This is a journal fragment. I’m still not writing much due to the pain in my hands but I do journal when the mood strikes me. 

IMG_2215She buoyed up my spirits when I confessed it felt needless to ever write again after reading Ehrlich’s flawless description of Wyoming’s bad lands. My oldest friend reminded me we all have a unique view and who are we to decide it won’t be as meaningful as the “famous” writer’s. Her encouragement reminded me that I am the one who said:
“Looking over the Pawnee Grasslands with it’s absence of that one thing which pulls your eye and your eye’s attention, that thing begging to be beautiful makes it a macrocosm of beautiful detail. The grasslands ask me to stop and look, look beyond the hard line between January’s dune colored grass and steel tinted sky. Look past the dash dividing the green of cold weather grass and ardent blue of early summer’s sky. The wind through the grass, and the meadow larks’ call and response would not be noticed as acutely if the landscape were littered with the epitome of picturesque details. A grove of statuesque trees, a cluster of brilliant flowers, or soaring mountain peaks would crowd out the spare beauty of grass and sky.”

 

It’s not perfect nor is it the stuff of Silko, Ehrlich, or Williams. But it’s a start.

About Laura

When my nest emptied I moved from the big city to a little big town to tend to a ramshackle yellow house on the edge of town. These are my Yellow House Days.
This entry was posted in at the heart of things, summer. Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to What happened when I stopped listening

  1. Carla says:

    and, from a woman who is currently paralyzed with her fiction, it’s a fantastic phenomenal and inspiring start.

    Like

  2. It’s beautiful prose in a poetic voice.

    Like

  3. It’s beautiful and it reminds us all to remember to appreciate the what’s important..

    Like

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