I’ve recently been pondering the question, what am I doing here? It’s been rattling around the cage for some time. I’ve also entertained several points of view and “so called” answers posed. I’m leaning towards the lazy side and was quite shocked, I went that route. Then again, I remembered, “oh yeah”, I tend to take the road less traveled and beat to my own drum instead. Would be nice to “speak” (audible words) with someone and have ideas bounce back at me, like an amazing game of tennis. On the other hand, I have a wide-open perspective for the first time and my serve is wickedly fast.
Why did I decide to take up writing again? What am I hoping to accomplish? I finally put to pen some stories that were essentially burning to come to “light”. In a way, I’ve barely scratched the surface. That can feel daunting, as did the sizeable obstacles getting to this point, here with you. A ghost writer is a conduit for someone else’s story. Maybe from long ago, or in this lifetime. It seems everyone has ghosts, and at times, I feel like one as well. That’s why it’s so important to tell the story and move on, hopefully to greener pastures and tastier “mulling’s”. Try not to disturb, the “do not disturbs'”.
One thing is for certain, I get to travel more than would be possible, physically. Not out of the question and if the magic wand theory ever proved itself, then I’d be travelling often and at the speed of light. So, yeah, not humanly possible, physically speaking. Maybe that’s what the future scientists are doing these days, among “other” things. I “heard” immortality among time travel were the “hot-ticket” items up for auction. A convention where the likes of the world’s richest, and “greatest” minds gather and collaborate slash bargain over the poker and buffet tables.
Of course, who is going to “believe” a ghost? That’s why, I never say my name, only theirs. I tell a story to the best of my recollection and ability, almost as a prophetic historian, and isn’t hindsight the clearest view? A little bird’s eye perspective into the past or a quick glimpse into the outer rims of an imaginative future. I pray I convey the message as intended.
This reminds me, if you know any good ghosts and their little dog’s stories, you’d like to share with me, drop a message and we’ll “talk” spectral shop of horrors over coffee and biscuits. Has to be gluten, soy, and dairy free or I might actually ascend or spontaneously combust, whichever God decides first.
I had dreams of being an author and pined over every word, illustration, and innuendo, message, double-entendre, cliche, title, paraphrase, “brainstorm”, and conceptual interesting material and content in between. As an introvert, fame doesn’t appeal to me, not that, that would or should happen. I almost want to knock on wood that it doesn’t.
In ancient times, “they” (the people) believed when the “gods” wanted to punish you, they “made” you win the lottery. Fame is fickle and fleeting, so are looks and vanity. No, I realized early, I would have to sink my teeth into something with more substance, heartier. Oh, I also quite eating red meat and pork for seems like a lifetime now. Who knows how many souls I’ve helped, more like spared, and I definitely intend on helping more and more? At the very least, keep them out of my intestinal digestive track.
Like the wind, I can go anywhere the good lord wills for me now, and I’m still at a pause as to what that direction is and where that humble abode resides. Nesting sounds nice for a little while. A garden sounds magical, and a “home” seems heavenly. Maybe then, I will hear the whispers of stories from the ghostly past, once again. Till then, I hope the flowers bloom just for you, and the music sways your soul wherever you shall choose to go. Thank you for visiting, and soon we’ll “talk” once more. Hopefully an English garden awaits us in the shade on a glorious, sun shining, bright, crisp afternoon. God speed and safe travels, always!