Weather to Write

I am looking out my office window watching the wildness of a changing season. The wind’s intensity is rising steadily and I feel it striving to have a stronger presence in this overcast Oregon day. The few, lonely yellowed and brown crunchy leaves that have been desperately holding on to their branches are blown haphazardly from the maple, oak, and birch trees in our yard. They fall reluctantly to their resting place not knowing that this motion sends them on the path towards new life. The sky is a dull, blackish grey with blue hints bursting through at the horizon. There’s a feeling that something powerful is on its way. I’m a bit hesitant to embrace this change in weather—winter is long, wet, and can seem endless.

It’s amazing to me that I can think almost as fast as I write at the computer. The keyboard provides a direct means to my mind. Subconsciously, though, I am constantly aware there is a reluctance to reveal a deeper self. Online communication lacks permanance that does not allow words the attention or time they deserve. My mindful typing may sit unused on a hard drive aging in a plastic shell, like swarms of old digital photos are now, never to be found again; the next blog will hide the last; e-mails are instantly deleted; and web pages surfed past like dud waves. But with paper, it all sits available (as long as you have a good filing system). I can hand you something I wrote back in college as easily as I can give you today’s journal entry. Now, I understand why I refused to write any of my English papers in college on a computer. My inner rebel preferred the Brother typewriter with backward correction and a full bottle of White-Out. I look forward to the exercise of writing with pen and paper in the mornings. It provides a way for me to take hold of a moment in my day, no excuses, and connect with what I am thinking at present. When I home schooled, I encouraged my kids to do this practice as often as possible. This mental touch with the inner self is missing in today’s online world. I’m certain there isn’t a gadget out there to bridge the gap between our soul and reality like creative expression whether it is with paper and pen, paints, photography, play dough or clay.

But wait. As I finish this blog I’ve come to realize this type of computer interaction I’m doing is full of the characteristics of art. It’s creative with the use of extra tools: a camera, a computer, and a cord to connect them both to a world that instantly shares my finished work. Yes, it is different and less-private than traditional writing but immediately satisfying and exciting because of the potential and promise these tools hold.

I’m adapting to online writing, just as I will soon adjust to the new view out my window without the fullness of trees to provide me a secret space. Now, fully exposed to my neighbors outside we’ll often share brief conversation under looming rain clouds before tucking inside our homes for security. November 2009, this season of change is welcome for what life and opportunity lies beneath each fallen leaf.