One of my favorite things about committing to writing first thing in the morning is the fact that it is an incredible gift to myself.
I can’t think of anything else I enjoy doing more than I enjoy writing.
Committing to do it every day builds a sense of gratitude into my entire experience.
I wonder how peculiar I am in possessing this trait.
I do know that once or twice I have been told that someone doesn’t enjoy writing, and the fact caused me to pause and consider how different I might actually be.
Whatever its strangeness, it is a trait that seems to be shared by many on Substack.
(Now I’m wanting to look at how many people write on this platform, how many are on Medium, how many blog regularly [as well as all the poets, novelists, journalists, and columnists] and how we size up in population share.)
But that’s all neither here nor there.
This is a post about gratitude.
Ever since I was a boy, this has been a primary aspect of my identity.
Probably, when I was young, it was a time when I could seek solitude and process my emotions in a safe space where I had the luxury of quiet time.
It’s more or less the same scenario now, time set aside for introspection and memory, coupled with the sweet pleasure of expression.
That said, now it also boasts lots of other characteristics, not the least of them being the introduction of much more experience, and many more topics.
Sometimes, I think about how Socrates did not write, and was famously skeptical of writing as a craft.
The idea seems to have been that it is not in making propositions that we come toward wisdom, but rather through challenging our own assumptions via a host of other practices, including dialogue.
That same thing seems to be true now.
We certainly have enough writers, and more than enough to read.
And, though we can “internalize Socrates” and create a sense of self-critique in our writing, it’s still a stream of words coming from one particular embodied consciousness.
So be it.
That doesn’t dissuade me from doing it, nor does it prevent me from thinking that, as far as self-indulgent behaviors go, it certainly isn’t the worst thing I could do.
And, again, I’m grateful for it.
I’m grateful for this opportunity to celebrate, for a spell each morning, the experience of being a real, live, self-aware consciousness participating in communication with other consciousnesses like yourselves.
As you know, I really have nothing to say.
The fact that I enjoy saying it, spinning it into the cotton candy of a piece, doesn’t make its ingredients any more nutritious.
But look at it! It’s Pink! It’s Blue!
Pink and blue as you are, and as red and orange.
So, with brushes in hand, and a messy smock, I say to you Good Morning, Reader!
Its been a terrific day already, and I’m crossing my fingers I might have a few more in my future.
With Aplomb,
Aaron