Writing

A special handwritten letter...

A thought went up my mind to-day
That I have had before
But did not finish some way back.
I could not fix the year,

Nor where it went, nor why it came
The second time to me,
Nor definitely what it was,
Have I the art to say.

Emily Dickinson

That is a perfect little poem. Emily Dickinson lived a secluded and reclusive life. During her last years, she rarely went outside, even though she adored nature. Toward the end she would speak to people only through doors. She had a reputation for being strange. Her world was small and life in Amherst was close and slow. There weren't any modern distractions in the 1880's.

But even in her quiet house, with her brilliant mind, creative thoughts came and passed just as quickly-- leaving behind only the frustrating memory of the thought. I think that poem is about writing. If I only had the art to say. Or maybe Emily was just having a senior moment. What did I come in this room for?

When Amanda was in the Peace Corps, I'd write her a long letter every Friday. John wrote her regular letters, too. His were neat and to the point, mine were long and rambling but she says she loved reading both. Nothing says "home" like a real letter. Writing those letters was a lot like writing blog posts now, and I'd jot down notes for when it came time to sit down with the pen. Writing is about observation and memory. Amanda wrote us back from Grenada, and we still have her fascinating letters. I'd swear that some of the envelopes smelled like spice from the Spice Island, and it was a special event to find one in the mailbox. Yet I didn't save a single email she sent during the Peace Corps years-- go figure.

When you stick to a writing habit, it forces you to use your mind differently. Writing is a constant state of mind that can transform the most ordinary life. Our lives are made up of the little things, and no one knew that better than Emily Dickinson. Oddly enough, Internet blogging often appeals to people who tend to be private and reserved. Who knows? Emily might have been a helluva blogger.

1830-1886