Time

I came to the realization this afternoon that perhaps the ultimate reason I appreciate the written word as much as I do has to do with "time". We are a species ruled by time. Our need to communicate with one another as quickly and as effectively as possible underscores a "need for speed" that runs to the core. But tragically, the need to communicate often trumps the need to be understood. For the sound of one hand clapping, can't be heard by forest alone.

I enjoy writing because it helps me to be understood, just as much as it helps me to understand. In person, I will often find myself overwhelmed and can't be slowed down to phrase things carefully. In conversations, I meander and amble toward something resembling a point, but often fall short.

It has all too often been said that good writing is good editing, but good conversations have no such platitude. With that considered, writing means so much to me because it is full of second chances. First impressions are only first drafts and a pause can last for seconds, days, or even years. Writing, for all intended purposes, is a time machine. It is an opportunity to mark a cadence limited only by the ink in your pen or the electricity in your computer.