ordinary sparkling moments :: jewels

by christine mason millerI should know by now to keep a pen and small notebook handy whenever I sit down to read, because whenever I read – be it a book, magazine or newspaper article –words are constantly leaping out like a pop-up book, calling my name, begging me to notice them. Since I haven’t yet developed a good habit of writing the words down in those moments, I have to rely on the force of their impact to make a lasting impression until hours or days later when I need them for a piece of writing. Sometimes the word melts away from my awareness, only to re-appear unexpectedly in the flow of writing. Other times it stays lodged in the forefront of my brain, refusing to quiet down until I create a sentence specifically for it, as if it is counting on me to give it a venue to shine in all its glory. An eager performer, it clamors for a stage, and won’t rest until I build one for it.

For a while I was rolling the word “temporal” around in my brain, letting it take up as much room as it wanted while I ran errands, washed dishes and finally locked it into place in a sentence, feeling the same sense of satisfaction as when two pieces of a puzzle click perfectly together. At times I’ve clung to proclivity, myopic and myriad, holding on to these words until I could experience the ultimate act of expressing my love for them – using them in a piece of my own writing. A quick glance at my most recent essays sees them shining like coins, treasures I carried with me until I found the perfect slot to slide them in, between whichever two words supported them best in a sentence.

“I realized my most well-worn methods weren’t about specific brushes, varnishes or equipment, but involved tools of a more temporal nature.”

“…as much as our social proclivities make up the fabric of who we are, we learned this year that we have to be careful to take care of ourselves - of our marriage - in the same way we strive to take care of those we love.”

“It would be easy to accuse her of being rigid and myopic, but in Atlas Shrugged, [Ayn Rand] maps a minutely detailed exploration through her own philosophy that would make our most daring space explorers blush.”

Every written creation I construct has the essentials – the nails, if you will: The, And, That, To. Then there are the larger building blocks I call upon over and over again: Journey, Meaningful, Explore. And then there are the jewels, the sparkling treasures that give my writing the depth I am looking for, the impact I’m wanting: Temporal, Proclivity, Myopic. Any my work is to line them up on the page, one word here, two over there, to create an arrangement that doesn’t merely speak, but sings – a melody of ideas, a symphony of thoughts.