Posted from The Spokesman - 6/26/13
I have nothing clever to say today, so I’m just going to sit here and write. You shouldn’t mind that, since it means you get to just sit there and read. I love our symbiotic relationship.
In the act of writing, I can tell you that today would be a good day to go for a hike, or possibly a run. In the act of reading, you can decide that I’m crazy and people like you don’t hike. Or run for that matter. Or even read that much… today I just goy lucky.
In time, however, you might sit back and recollect how much you appreciated the suggestion to get outside, get some fresh air and possibly a little exercise. You might have enjoyed a healthy dose of Vitamin D, or a chat with a friend, or a chance to walk the dog. I, on the other hand, might possibly enjoy the idea of making you do things from the comfort of my desk chair. That sounded diabolical, didn’t it, almost like I might enjoy that too much.
This banter is healthy though, even if it is slightly off the deep end. Ultimately, we need each other; you need me to write something interesting and worthy of your time, and I need you to read it, while sipping your coffee and checking to see what the weather will be like today. Trust me on this though, today is going to be epic. Wear shorts and grab the sunscreen.
Aside from this seemingly visceral need, of writing and reading, is another need. I need you to simply be. This is not some existentialism speak where I quote Nietzsche but instead, your being constitutes a space that is filled. Without you, there would be nothing in the space you occupy. And since you’re here, you might as well read this post. Besides, we’re almost done, so hang in there.
In some alternate universe, you would be the writer and I could be the reader. As we ponder how that would go, imagine what you might write about. The opportunities are nearly endless, you know, such as the price of gas or the things people wear to the grocery store. You could encounter so many topics and subjects you might even have days like this where you’re at a loss for what to write. Then we would be here again.
Or you could simply absorb this column, finish your coffee and breakfast, gather your things and head for the door. It might be that you’re staring at a commute to work, or a trip to school, but regardless, step outside, breathe in the day and be thankful for it. For tomorrow, you could be the writer.