He stared at the blank page and realized his mind was also blank. He started to turn to an earlier page, when he heard the voice.
“Don’t look back; just write something.”
“But I think I forgot to call the muse,” he responded.
“How do you do that, anyway? He-ere, Musey, Musey, Musey’?”
Let it never be said that it never be said.
Let no thought be condemned to disappear because it was too much to bear.
Foul thoughts, bottled up, tend to fester and grow even more foul if not let out into the air and allowed to mingle with clearer and saner fare.
Am I advocating for unfettered ugly speech? No. I’m advocating for a conversation where the ugly can be met with beauty, or at least with anti-ugly. Free speech means you can say whatever you like, freely and honestly, but you have to be willing to allow a free and honest response.
Let sunshine cleanse the dark and chase it with healthy rebuke, rather than let the dark simmer and grow strong.
I had Joni Mitchell’s Ladies of the Canyon on the turntable Friday morning while I toiled away at the news desk, which most often in these COVID times resembles my home desk complete with visits from bored golden retrievers. When it occurred to me that the LP has been in my possession for 50 years, I found myself in awe of the passage of time but even more in awe of how timeless a collection of songs it is.
