When I write

I write when I am inspired; when words pour from my head faster than I can type.
When phrases leap into my brain unbidden and in the most banal of circumstances,
or in the most unexpected or inconvenient moment.

I write too, when I have an urge to foster conversation. When I ponder a subject that
initially perplexes me, causes me bewilderment, or that causes such strong perturbation
that I am driven to explore, to investigate, to examine and scrutinise until finally I arrive
at some level of peace.

Writing forces me to clarify what I think, what I contemplate. When I write I am
sometimes surprised at what appears on the page. Those bold words formed by ink
and pigment can seem so cold, heartless; cruel even. Or is it the paper that is cruel,
hard, and thankless, not my words? Regularly, the words emerge warm, kind,
whole-hearted and I wonder at the quality of the stationery that has so imbued my
words with such decency.

Writing may bring depth, but I know that speaking brings clarity and sharpness. So
how do I deepen my understanding of a topic? How do I plumb the depths of a subject
to illuminate the dark areas of bias, spotlight the hidden reef of attitude, reveal the secret
agenda of selfishness?

Reading brings advice, data, information and knowledge and writing brings depth, but
it takes the perception, judgement, opinion and discernment of others to bring enlightenment,
illumination and wisdom. Balance comes when I listen to the viewpoint of others, when
their declarations and opinions are given equal weight with my own, when I hold lightly
my own persuasions and give dignity to the expression of others