On those days when my energy is prone to spikes and subsequent lows, I return to this image, “The Road Awaits.” I pause, knowing I will walk through the rest of my day but in this moment, I await an evenness of mind.
Margaret Atwood wrote that “a word after a word after a word is power.” It is a path, this power, one every lover of words walks whenever possible. Not all paths are open to all. Some demand all.
Increasingly, I am fond of tweeting, the challenge of 140 characters with which to build words. The immediacy of the delivery creates paths everywhere. Some go nowhere and others make impressions I will never know.
Most of my words construct paths I will never walk, which is as it should be. Once I put together sentences, paragraphs become a message, perhaps one that awaits you. If so, no word in that path is ever mine again, not completely.
Surely, words return, singularly or in sentences. If the path I provided is thoughtful, it will join others as a road to places unseen and people unknown. When I am thoughtless, the possibilities are no less.
It is a path, this power.