No word wasted.
I am in the middle of a sun salutation when that thought drops in, followed by one of Don Miguel Ruiz’ four agreements, “Be impeccable with your word.”
Sometimes, my yoga practice is like that.
Especially in these days of wielded words, as if they do no harm, as if…. Nothing new under that sun but now, words light up screens everywhere.
Sometimes manipulated, other times refurbished–maybe even improved–words on the rise. What is waste to one is meme to another.
Writing is my one constant, even when I am certain I no longer have the patience to put another sentence onto a screen, but words always win, a thread of thought pulls loose and pleas for its moment.
Language reworks the mind, as thoughts take shape on screens, words rising and falling, replacements abound, all recycled for what comes next.
Such is the way of war, as prone to proclamation as it is to drunkenness. How often I forget.