Why Write?

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20 January 2022 - Adetswil

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As newfallen snow dusts the ground outside I hear the neighbor scraping his shovel across the stone walk outside our doors as I make coffee. It's a lovely English coffee which I picked up at Harrod's in London last week. It's a funny thing to have visited London so many times but to never have left the airports. My other experiences had been at Gatwick, which is like England's Newark. This time, however, it was the world famous Heathrow. It's funny how some cities have different names for their airports: Schiphol in Amsterdam, Flesland in Bergen, Hartsfield (or I guess now Hartsfield-Jackson) in Atlanta. And then there are the boring ones, like SFO (San Francisco) or BWI, which serves two cities - Baltimore and Washington.

With warm coffee in hand I return to bed to sit and read and start my day, but, alas, the Economist as met bedside has written a paean to business writing so I find myself inspired. Alas, inspired. That's not often how one things of it, but it can be an overwhelming force, the need to express one's self. The word itself, inspire, means literally to breath in, referring to the Greek mythological idea that one breathes in ideas fromt he gods. Or something like that. One can blame a muse for inspiring them, but it seems with some of us that it is more like we has this need of expression in us. Like a glass of water that's been in the microwave too long and becomes superheated, it just takes a small perterbation to make it boil.

Piszę. Lately I've been learning Polish, as it's Iwona's mother tongue. Duolingo is helpful in this regard. I have only been speaking and playing games with it though. Not writing. Nie piszę. This is a natural way to learn language, but it is the opposite of the formal method one encounters in school. Like I know the difference between piszę (I write) and piszemy (we write), but I haven't spent time conjugating verbs or declining nouns. These sorts of things can't be fudged as easily in writing.

On the second cup with a litte raclette I find myself stalling out somewhat. The train of thoughts in my head keeps railing on, but distractions of the day are now entering.

Jeg kan også skrive på norsk, men det er lit vanskelig å se hva jeg vil. Jeg høre altid kritiker at ikke vil meg forstå. Men jeg må være stark og skrive hva jeg synes. Det er viktig for alle menneskar, at de kan se hva de vil. Og skrive det også. I fremtid vil jeg kanskje finne ut at meningene mine var gødt for verandre. Kanskje ikke. Jeg skrive selvfolgelig.

Paula has been waiting patiently to go out and enjoy the newfallen snow as I drink my coffee, so now I must appease her. If nothing else, if the writing even goes unread, the writer has still has profitted by getting the ideas out of his head. And now I bid you all à dieu!