It is this physical aspect of writing—the sitting down and listening through the body, the hand, the pen—that can bring forth something substantial and true. Each shape, each word, is an expression of how the world is living in me. When I write, I keep going all the way to the end of the page, enjoying the sensual touch of it all, the way the letters link and dance and skip along, my fingers waiting expectantly for the next, the next wave, the next thought showing up, ready to be described. Writing is the reporter, giving form to it all, grounded in the past, amazed and present to this moment.
