Wednesday, Dec. 15th

We scrap for language. We obsess over it. We press our ears closer to the ground to see if we can hear and truly hear how to say a thing. We excavate words from the mouths of our ancestors, tattered memories and the marrow of our bones. All in an attempt to paint clearer pictures about what is happening within and without. We seek to give texture to unformed stories swimming around in our imaginations. Storytelling is nestled in our DNA. We're frustrated when we can't say it like we feel it. Or express it like it came, and continues to come to us. We run away from good realities and good people because we haven't located the language and narratives that steady us. Who are we if we can't communicate it? And does our ability to truly live lie in our ability to say?