Writing is an interesting thing.  Inspiration comes in bursts...like waves.  There's a rhythm - a flow.  It isn't tangible or predictable.  It's a wind; suddenly it's there - or it's gone.  I had a month or more recently where there was swelling inside - until the cloud broke onto these pages.  And then as quickly as the rain began....it stopped.  And for days and weeks there was nothing.  Oh, occasionally, when driving or walking, a thought might begin, but generally just no pressing desire to have a blog storm.  

I suppose life is similar.  It sways - like the trees....sometimes hard enough to make the boughs crack and pop....or even break.  Sometimes it's a gentle, steady motion that even the leaves don't seem to mind.  They rock to the beat of the world around them....the forces they rise to meet each day.  They embrace and even dance with the invisible breezes that subtly manipulate them.  It's not until the harshness presses hard on them that they are even aware... and then we might hear the crackling, creaking sounds of resistance and bending.

Writing is often the complaints or groans that respond to daily winds and storms.  Or it can be a mellow sound, a playful song, a content melody.  One never quite knows when the heart will offer it's depths...and to what extent.  At any rate, these pages are an outlet, where the tides can softly roll in....or carry the ship passionately outward to sail away from the mundane.  I suppose today is a quiet, breezy float....a contemplative afternoon of watching the sea gulls soar and glide.  I'm thankful it's not a typhoon.  :)