set apart for sacred use
I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.
~ EB White
Words flew through Thalia’s fingers. The jazzy, multi-colored gel pen motored a rainbow wake. Under her breath she whispered, “Yes, and! Yes, and! Yes, and!”
“Whatcha doin’?” Cal asked.
“Writing a lehhhhhh-ter! To EB!”
“Dead. He’s dead.” Urania couldn’t hold herself back from pointing out what everyone at studio’s table already knew.
“Ahhhh! But WHAT A LIFE!” Tal pulled a sketch pencil from the caddy. She whipped out a drawing of Wilbur. “I want him to know the many ways his stories and characters improved Typist! And I want to ask him if he savored the writing process — Like we do!”
“Ahhhh… yes,” Calliope let out a long sigh of contentment. “We improve the world by improving ourselves… There’s no time for drama when crafting your life’s work… your magnum opus.”
“Runt is a state of mind,” said Nia.
I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world.
~ Mother Teresa
Go on now… Get started on your letter!
Mic 🎤 Drop! 🙌🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼🙌🏼
“When I look back on the authors, film makers, actors, musicians, painters, scientists (yes! I believe they are artists, too) that have made my beautiful life possible, I’m aware I can never come close to reciprocating. All I can do is dance my dance as a show of gratitude and hope that it has value beyond myself.” ~Typist, a.k.a, Gail Boenning
My morning started with "What is?, What is? What is? What would a drawing of what is be?