Attachments (the transience of creation)

I lay myself open with arms splayed out, waiting. Whatever comes out of me can only come from within. I look at my fingers on the keyboard, waiting to be told what to do.

Mind and Eye discuss the look of Hands. Heart admires their aspect. Heart is sentimental. Mind fights with Heart about it, it’s one of their favorite arguments.

Mind likes to keep things orderly. Heart wants Mind to remember, to indulge in the past. Heart leads Mind down a path of memories. Mind gets distracted. Fingers stop.

It’s no different than anything else: you make a pattern in the sand with a stick, admire the pattern for the feeling it gives you, and smile. The tide comes closer, the pattern starts to break apart, the waves take it back out to sea.

Make a new pattern, smile, ship…


Lean-to on Washington coast

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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5 Responses to Attachments (the transience of creation)

  1. The Artist’s Paradox: Caring deeply about something, yet completely aware of its unimportance.

    When we care deeply about something, yet doing it with no attachment to the outcome, that’s where magic happens.


    • pinklightsabre says:

      Arrrgh I can’t communicate with you on your blog for some queer reason! I have to resort to more conventional methods. Although I spied you in your Subaru on Utah yesterday at 8:45 – so know I’ve got my eye on you…


  2. Hmmm, my friend, that is not my blog. Cinnabarstory is Eric’s blog. Mine is a lot more superficial… All I write about is my addiction: Baking Bread. And how I sink into a deeper and deeper swirl without any hope of cure or recovery.

    Subaru? Me? 8:45? I’m afraid it was likely another Asian who looked just like me. If it was 8:45am, I was already in the office working my fingers to the bone. If it was 8:45pm, I was already in bed. I lead an exciting life, yes.

    Please, please keep writing, friend.


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