Dear Trees,
I know I said electronic was the way to go. But I'm going back on what I said. Because I was wrong. You see, nothing is quite like paper. Crisp, white, yellow, purple, blue and my personal favorite, green. Ink glides over the page in quick strokes, slow strokes, smooth strokes, rough strokes. Before, when I left you behind, I didn't realize how much paper meant to me. I Left it all behind, books, journals, notepads, Post It's. I didn't even own a pen or pencil to write with. I thought my electronic devices had everything I needed. And in theory, they did. But they lacked something big, something deep. Something that has made me go back to paper, go back to books, go back to trees. What is that "something?" That something ladies and gentlemen is soul.
Soul that rustles in the wind. Soul that digs deep, deep into the earth. Soul that sticks my thumb and index finger together with its ooey, gooey sap. Now, I know I'm among few "believers" in trees and trust me, this belief has earned me the tittle "weird" and "strange" quite a few times. But I can't help it.
I believe trees have a story to tell and that they speak from the pages of books and journals. As I write on paper I feel a connection to source, to my source. In essence, I feel as if I am writing on the earth itself. Writing to God. Writing with God. Creating.
