stacking marbles


I’ve been writing this blog every morning for less than a month.  At this point, it hasn’t been a marathon yet…more like one of the half mile races I used to attack with mediocrity….going into the final curve….sucking wind and wondering what was going to happen next.

When you write and send it out into the void, you kind of feel like the crazy man at the edge of the woods…whispering into the wind, “come here, come here….listen…I’ve got something to tell you”…not even sure if the people across the field can even see you, much less hear you.  That’s the beauty of crazy…you’d do it anyway.  If it’s only for the response it’s never going to be something sustainable.

Some mornings, it feels like I’ve fallen into a swiftly moving river.  Everything I write seems to just move along of its own momentum…effortless and fast…pouring out onto my computer screen as quickly as I can type.  The fact that I’m a moderately slow typist doesn’t bother me…it just makes it all seem like it’s coming even faster.  I don’t know why that sometimes happens…but relish it when it does.

Other mornings, it feels like I’m sitting at my desk stacking marbles.

I am sure that at some point, someone is going to wake up to the sight of me scrambling around on the floor, chasing the rolling glass…trying to contain a situation that too much coffee and too little control set in motion. “What are you doing?”, they’ll ask….”NOTHING!!!NOTHING!!!”, I’ll reply…a little too close to the truth. There was a sense of order and possibility at some point. Slow and meticulous, each marble or word a struggle for perfect placement…and then, the falling down and moving away…my marbles not even making a good path to lead me back to the river.

I won’t always get it right.  Sometimes I’ll burn the french toast…mix the concrete too wet…stop just  shy of digging “deep enough”…say too much or too little in this blog from time to time…but I’ll keep trying to stack those marbles. If I don’t completely understand that it can’t be done, well…I guess that’s pretty close to thinking it’s all possible, right?

photo by Ton Terhorst used by creative commons license

About Peter Rorvig

I'm a non-practicing artist, a mailman, a husband, a father...not listed in order of importance. I believe that things can always get better....and that things are usually better than we think.


stacking marbles — 2 Comments

  1. Peter- I popped over after reading a comment you wrote on my little blog. I do that often and usually just read a passage or two. But today, I read quite a few of your posts, you have a lovely lyrical quality in your prose that I really enjoy and I think is uncommon in this day and age. Keep writing

  2. Kerry…thankyou for your kind comment…it really helps me when I get a hint that these aren’t just “messages in a bottle”…good to know that someone is reading…many thanks…Peter