Disjunction of scope

September 14th

Today I saw a “like” for one of my stories from months ago. I didn’t recognize even a title, so I click to read it to refresh my memory of what it was about and got a surprise. First, it was a very well-written story (yes, I am that humble). And second — it was a description of a simple emotion in minute detail. I forgot I could write with such clarity and verbosity describing something simple, but extremely important to me at that moment when it happened. Come to think about it — I don’t really recall many stories I have written here, that might be a call to go back and check my writing progress over the last two years.

I felt proud when I reread it, and even a little astounded as to how well I wrote it. But what was the most important to me, was the scope of that story. A description of a simple situation that created a particular emotion in me. And a description of my thoughts and actions which happened right at that moment. There was no depth to it, no real importance — just something that happened and made me feel in a specific way. And yet, it was important enough for that single moment that it remained in my mind to be described in words.

That minuteness of the description was something really arresting for me. I thought about it for a while and realized that recently everything I think about and write about, comes from a macro point of view. I look at the global scope of things and make sweeping generalizations about them. And that is easy to do — the bigger the scope, the easier it is to find something that will stick to it. But I don’t really enjoy it.

There was a period of time in the spring of this year when I was able to notice the smallest details of the surrounding world. And occasionally I still am able to do just that. And that close observation of something, be it a thing, an emotion, a memory — that gives me the deepest and purest pleasure of thought and content of mind. I want to go back to that. I want to slow down and observe better. There are so many things going on around me and in the world which are completely beyond my control. But what I can control is my pace — of life, of thought, and of observation. I am not in a race against anybody or anything or even a time. I got time. But somehow I was drawn into a stupid, pointless race that goes nowhere. I don’t want to hurry just for the hurrying sake. I can control myself in the time that I have now, and all I need to do is just slow down.