The pen. It is an elegant instrument, though not oft used of late. It is also a euphemism. I use it instead of saying writing. Writing is a discipline. Pens are just, you know, things. It works well. For instance, “My pen is broken” serves to express that my words simply are not working, or they are failing to convey the meaning and color of what I am trying to say.
As of late I seem to have lost my pen. It has been missing for a couple of years. I haven’t even looked for it for a while. Lately I have had a longing to find my pen. I have looked for it. I have found a pen. It looks like mine. I hope it is mine. Only time and words will tell if it is indeed my pen.
So once again I am venturing into relearning how to use my pen. Every time I am poised to use it there is a new distraction. A reason why I should be doing something besides wielding my old trusty instrument and putting images to paper. Sigh. That is the problem with my pen. It is important, like many things are, but it isn’t always as urgent as most things become.
My goals in this season with this particular pen is to learn to write well with fewer words. To capture a moments magic and turn these words into images that transport you from here to there in a moment. Perhaps to a yonder sea? Another euphemism that I shall unpack another time.