Writer Forgets the Writing

2-28-2026

This in calendar wraps up February. This beautiful day. the wonderful sunshine. The easy breeze of atmosphere. The soft sounds of small birds. The happiness of a Golden Retriever chewing on her bone yummily gnawing away. I wonder if she too enjoys hearing the birds and the magnificence of life on this planet. Yes it is worship of our star and the warmth speaks to my soul and like the endless waves of ocean all energy recycling and renewing. Undulations of energy and matter always in motion. We are always in motion and the stars are always in motion. The cars that cruise down the road always in motion. The mind always in motion. That which is still and yet alive. The inert force of universe. That is present moment. The secret within breath. Breath from stars light. Human life mixed with star energy. Made into something higher what are we engines of. If sun is the fuel. Biology the life support. Our senses and feelings the human filter as we collect experience points and filter everything through biology in the crystal light of our own inner nuclear core. Our tie to Universe and heritage to sun. Activated through chemistry. Magic of science. The clouds are a million paintings today. The work of true mastery. Beauty from the universe. Universal beauty. And with each moment another letter decides to make it's way unto the page and a piece of the human as well fingerprints of the soul as old as Universe itself. We are the spice of life. With our sun star rising higher each day. I watch it making its way from south to West and slightly higher each day as spring, Approaches. But march is not without.

If I may just a scribble before I rest. I cannot see and without spectacles gently focus and just try to make sure each letter makes it out near the line. And squinting helps. But like surfing it can be done at night and if well familiar with the terrain and one can be made to feel safe this is a good atmosphere. The breathe relaxes but the capturing of thought and expression through written word through longhand cursive. This is the focusing of ones thoughts into some art form and combining motion. And whether there is motion or not or emotion or not there is indeed notion and there is ink flowing out from this pen forming words and thoughts somewhat magically and effortlessly and sure yes much of it garbage and someone going on about scribbling these letters and trying to find Zen in that practice. Being in the zone and the zone being surf. Life becomes in the zone. Everything becoming. Being and creating in the present moment both actor and observer. Less thinker when writing more focus on doing and the kata and speed and consistency and good form over message content, angle or thought.

Let that come naturally. As long as there is no stress from one word to the next or building thoughts and there rarely is for at some point it all just comes together and Writer forgets the writing.

Related Explorations

• The People of the Stars - The entry before this one in the notebook.
• The Sun Comes With No Name - The next entry in the notebook.