Sometimes words are hard to come by.
Sometimes the sounds the shapes the syllables hover on the tip of the tongue, yet the mind the heart cannot decide which should go with what.
Sometimes we realize that we have spent so long multi-tasking, cramming, getting projects done, that we know little of our own mind.
Sometimes I realize that – for many of us – human progress has not meant making life simpler, or deeper, or truer, but has instead meant making life more productive, more efficient, more hectic.
Sometimes I – a lover of words – find myself with few words to use because they have been swept away while I was distracted from thinking.
Sometimes I get so angry with myself for allowing media and entertainment to deter me from the things I truly love. And I get angry at others for making distractions the norm.
Sometimes my heart is overflowing – yet how does one begin to describe this? To express it? When self-examination has become so rare, how do I tell another of the myriads of things I see inside myself and inside of them?
Sometimes words are hard to come by, and I realize it’s because I’ve forgotten to be still and know.
To be.
