Loops and Lines and Swirls

I remember being too little to know how to write, but writing anyway.  I played with pens, pencils, and paper, and I would make loops and lines and swirls.  I remember thinking it magical that thoughts could become lines on paper, and that someone else could understand those lines.

I love the sound of the dance of a sharp number two pencil. I love the way it feels in my hand and in my heart.  I didn’t know when I was little that this would be a life-long intimate relationship – writing and me, but it is.

Writing with loops and lines and swirls connects me with my deepest being.  For much of my adult life my handwriting was a messy shorthand – part printed/part cursive, and illegible to the uninitiated.  Now, I write in cursive again, reacquainting myself with my childhood friend.

Cursive writing slows my hand, and unhurries my mind.  It gives my thoughts space to linger.  Sometimes I lose my way, and then I revert to the meaningless loops and lines of my childhood, while my mind catches up with my hand again. 

I love the feel of words flowing, rhymes forming, and stories unfolding.  Loops and lines are always where I begin.  The computer comes later.  It has other jobs to do.

What called to you when you were little enough to be listening?  What captured your imagination?  Are you listening still?

 

2 comments

  • dave j

    dave j

    i remember getting hit the first time; that's when my imagination stopped and started again but in a much scarier genre... fear. i used my imaginings to build forts and mountains and slides and tunnels all out of snow. i threw left over paint off the brush and onto the wall with a flick of my wrist. i liked the splotches. i got caught doing that. he hurt the side of my face so i didn't do it again. 40 years later i had 9 seizures in 2 weeks and the first thing i did when i cam home from the hospital was collect 32 cans of friends left over house paint; buy a couple outdoor table clothes with the funny feeling cottony stuff on the back; and started flicking paint. i loved it.

    i remember getting hit the first time; that's when my imagination stopped and started again but in a much scarier genre... fear. i used my imaginings to build forts and mountains and slides and tunnels all out of snow. i threw left over paint off the brush and onto the wall with a flick of my wrist. i liked the splotches. i got caught doing that. he hurt the side of my face so i didn't do it again.
    40 years later i had 9 seizures in 2 weeks and the first thing i did when i cam home from the hospital was collect 32 cans of friends left over house paint; buy a couple outdoor table clothes with the funny feeling cottony stuff on the back; and started flicking paint. i loved it.

  • Denise

    Denise

    I am sorry you had to experience that... It is good to hear that you are reconnecting with the things that bring you joy! My best to you.

    I am sorry you had to experience that...
    It is good to hear that you are reconnecting with the things that bring you joy!
    My best to you.

Add comment