The meaning of words

If this is it, then what was that?

If now is the time, then what came before?

(Part 2 of 3)

Once upon a time, there … Wait, “once upon a time”? What does that even mean?

OK, this happened once, which suggests a unique happening in the past — and the reference to a time also suggests the past — but how do you get “upon” a time? Time is a figment of our collective imagination; there is no “time,” there is only now, this moment, so how do you get “upon” a time?

(What a time it was, too.)

It probably depends on what “upon” means. In the far distant past, did it mean something somewhat different than it does now? Or was time originally something corporeal and visible that we could literally sit upon?

Those are questions for another time, for I am committed to sit in this chair and muse, not perform research.

And there’s another interesting turn of phrase: By saying I’m sitting “in” this chair, I describe a different chair than if I had written I am sitting “on” this chair. I am suggesting arms on either side of me and padding that I sink “into” when I lay my ample posterior on top of it.

To be continued.

And so I am a writer

If this is it, then what was that?

If now is the time, then what came before?

(Part 1 of 3)

I have about 75 minutes to prepare for church as I write this Sunday morning, so why would I take time to go through a writing exercise?

“Writers write, so write, Writer.”

It’s as simple as that.

And as complicated.

Write what? Write how? Why write?

That last is easy to answer — because writers write, and I have identified as a writer.

Although … the phrasing “I have identified as” implies that I had a choice, but from the moment they handed Little Me a pencil, I have been writing my hieroglyphics.

And so I am a writer. What can I do about that? I can write. And so I write.

And I repeat: Write what? Anything, at first. And then, eventually, Something. I did not know when I picked up the pen this morning that I would write about writing. But here we are.

And what next?

To be continued.

Quick answer

I threw up my hands as I stepped off the bathroom scale, frustrated at myself for a variety of reasons — no one thing particularly dramatic, but the combination.

“Lord, help me be the man you intended me to be for the rest of my time,” I said out loud. “I could have been more than this all along, I know. Help me be more the rest of the way. Amen?”

I went through my office and paused at the door into the living room, leaning my hand against the door jamb.

The morning sun shone through the prism-like glass in my front door and cast a rainbow across my hand.

When God makes a promise, He is not exactly subtle.