Words form the thread on which we string our experiences. – Aldous Huxley
Words are the thread, form the thread. The image resonates for me, gives me pleasure, so I will explore it a bit. Words are sometimes used as weapons; words sometimes are an effort to reach, connect and communicate. They can hurt and they can soothe, even sometimes heal. They are the thread on which we string our experiences.
I see a clothesline, with experiences clipped on it, dancing in the breeze. Early experiences, represented by clothes, may have faded a bit, but they are also softened and somehow timeless. They sway in the glow of memory, even the difficult experiences. Adolescent happenings look a little stiff and outdated. The self-assurance of those choices, represented by outfits that were once so trendy and essential, now hang stiffly on the line, overly starched.
The length of the clothesline varies, of course, but for myself I see the adventures quite clearly, each marked by an almost iconic item. Flowing, full length skirts from the California years, followed by denim overalls worn while working as a baker and cook. Shall I go on? Where am I headed with this metaphor? Does it go somewhere? Does it need to?
Words form the thread on which we string our experiences… Yes. And words also drift like falling leaves or passing clouds. They offer pleasure in sound, in the mind’s ear. The recent loss of poet/singer/songwriters like Leonard Cohen, remind me that when joined with music, the beauty of words is exquisitely amplified.
The opportunity to honestly express thoughts and emotions, using words, can be a challenge. It is also a gift. And so, today, I will look upon this blogging experience with gratitude. Were it not for the World Wide Web and NaBloPoMo, all of my words would be hidden tightly in notebooks or on crumbling bits of paper in that bottom desk drawer.