A cup full of sunlight

Driving around Northern California in summer is like speeding up time. One afternoon lush green hills give your sweaty eyes comfort and shade. The next afternoon, you see them turning yellow, warning you of the fleeting horizons of seasons. 

I did write in my head every minute detail of this ephemeral wisdom -that I need to copy these conversations from my head to a random memory and save them permanently on a piece of paper. Yet it took me three months to sit down and type here.

I have been busy, so busy that I kept post-it-notes around my head to Say no to everything. But then one afternoon, two little strawberries emerged from the green pot, beside ten lavenders, five handsome bell-peppers, two red azaleas, an faded orange hibiscus, three shiny yellow roses, and a hummingbird flew around the mint bush and sat straight on my empty notebook for a while, and it occurred to me that it’s July and summer is slowly fading in the cool evening wind and I haven’t written since I hiked in the snow in early spring.

I like summer because it is so ordinary and mediocre- it can blend with anything- it can blend with flowing alpine lakes and warm sand dunes so easily. It flows. This season. Without any metaphor. And when you flow with it, you don’t realize how far you have come. 

In the era of instagram influencers, who very well write about philosophy under their filtered selfies, I have come to realize the importance of greeting my thoughts with silence sometimes.   What should I write when everything is already written and the attention span of readers is not more than a few minutes?

I remembered my writing teacher this summer. Once during a tea break, she explained to me about the importance of silent writing and writing for silence. As I sat in my garden again this afternoon, with a cup of tea, empty notebook, and a loud mind, I wrote a poem for myself.   A poem about a full cup, about sunlight, about this journey of flowing and not falling, floating and not drowning, about writing and holding on to it.

I will work on my blog for some time. Most probably there won’t be too many posts until I figure out if posting my writings still excites me the way it used to do a decade ago.

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Why do you write? 

 

 

 

9 thoughts on “A cup full of sunlight

  1. The hummingbird is a moment of magic and I think no coincidence it hovered/sat on your writing notebook. The Aztecs thought they were messengers of the gods. Maybe your Muse is visiting:).

  2. Welcome back — stay for as long as it calls you. You know I am a writer, and inspiration is everywhere. Life is busy and fleeting, though, so I often don’t get all my thoughts down someplace where I record my thoughts. Hold onto the ones you can, record those you remember, and create new ones.

  3. I was sitting in my office this week looking at a calendar and realized that we are moving quickly through this summer. It has been a mild summer here in the SF area. 😎 I like to write for both myself, to work through thoughts, as well as share what I know from both experiences and old house projects. Taking time to be still and quiet are an important part of staying on an even keel.

    1. Very true. Mild summer and how fast we are reaching autumn this year! I love writing and still wondering whether to post them anymore

      1. I have observed that your posts are thought provoking and we’ll received by your readers. I stopped trying to figure out what people like and just focus on what I want to share.

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