Grace within this bare face…

Republishing this old post written November 8, 2017. I had decided to convert it back to draft form because it contained mention of a certain term. Please just don’t look too deeply into the that term as it contains a rabbit hole. I respect you to use your discernment and overlook that part. I drop terms and names all the time that I doubt you look into.

Amongst the stillness of the room, the fridge dominates the over the ticking clock. The constant ringing in my ears gives another dimension of sound while I ponder if my ears are strong enough to pick up on the wireless signals of electronics. I like to imagine that this faint and consistent ring is the ringing of the source field which in ancient times was known as the ether. Beyond that, an occasional wind rustles the leaves and a noisy car sometimes zooms down the nearby but distant enough busy road.

I don’t notice it often. The noises of my apartment, my home. The opening doors of neighbors going about their day and the dogs randomly barking. What sounds like a small plane or maybe a faraway train. My hearing is very good, but I talk loudly to speak over the ringing of the source field (wireless electricity buzzing.) I wonder how many people can hear it?

Out on the balcony, a few stray spider strings catch the light. A mixture of green, brown and orange dresses up the trees. Suddenly my ears notice the ticking clock on the wall again. A pondering on the passing of time. With the sun up now, it seems like the day is still full. The wind chime rings into action as the wind picks up. Another noisy motor on the road and the sound of a train getting closer. Unknown if it will pass by me or is it is on a different track.

My ears pick up a new sound, as if my neighbors have turned on some music, but quiet enough that I cannot make out a tune. The occasional click from some sort of electronic in the kitchen,  perhaps the fridge clicks when its cooling cycle is off.

Looking at my writing now, my editor proclaims I have made 5 advanced errors in the writing of this post. Refusing to pay the yearly fee to discover how the program analyzes my writing to be weak, these advanced errors remain a mystery to me. Writing for me is for the feeling of getting thoughts into words. Memories of being at the lowest reading level and my dismissal spelling before computers corrected these mistakes for me. Now the computer helps maintain my grammar so as to appease, a bit more, those who get upset by little errors.

It always fascinated me, how people could let grammar mistakes upset them. If you look at my room you can see I have no issue with chaos and disorder. Yet some are upset by messy rooms. My writing like my room does not feel the need to appear perfect. I know there are those with more skill and artfulness in this craft. I write as I am. I wear no makeup unless required to. Though I have considered finding a good makeup app to cover up my face the way the computer covers my writing shortcomings.

With the help of a computer, my voice can get through to those who nitpick at particularities. The beauty becomes apparent in the words. Now I know a computer could perfectly apply make-up so that they can see the grace within this bare face.

Categories: Beginnings

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