To covet, or not to covet. That is the dilemma.

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I remember the word ‘covet’ securely fastening itself in my brain after I watched The Silence Of The Lambs.  I had always admired the word as part of the English language, but never truly gave it the power it so richly deserved.  For only having a mere five letters, the word yields much more of an impact than meets the eye.  With the pun intended in that last sentence, I began to realize how it easy it could be to covet something that was so far removed from my reality, yet so much of a presence in my daily thoughts.  I could always see what it was that I wanted.

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Signs and portents of the things we covet will surely present themselves in a myriad of ways, and those glowing neon reminders will only serve to keep that item at the forefront of our brains.  Though we may not have access to the object of our attention on a daily basis, it nonetheless plants a small seed in our brain that sprouts and grows every time we give it a moment of thought.  That lingering speculation permeates the moments of our day and the spark of what could be fuels the evolution of our fascination.

By giving ourselves permission to covet, we allow ourselves the opportunity to keep our desires alive, to live with passion.  And maybe if those dreams never come to fruition we were privately allowed the right to give that fantasy a breath of life, if only for a few fleeting moments.  There is no legitimate way of telling our heart it was wrong.  It will beat the way it wants to beat and we are powerless to its incessant drumming.

I am intimidated by the fear of not following my desires, of never having opened the door to possibility, and thus never being able to define what is truly important to me.  Coveting those things, identifying the wants that truly envelop me but knowing they may be the things that I can never have, affects my world on a scale beyond my comprehension.  But those impervious wants, those things I covet,  allow me to begin to sketch the blueprints of what it is that I truly desire.  They satiate my thirsts, they begin to quench my desire.

To covet is to wish – to wish is to dream – and to dream is to live.

Like sands through the hourglass – these are the thoughts in my head

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At the risk of seeming overly loquacious, I have challenged myself to post every day for the month of November.  What began as a drip of creativity has turned into a steady stream and threatens to flood my thoughts, and my keyboard.  The words that I envisioned having to struggle to find are lending themselves with no contest and ideas present themselves in unending fashion.  The sands in the hourglass that represent my ideas seem to refill themselves as quickly as they dissipate through the pinhole in that blown glass.

No longer is my imagination confined in such a small space.  No longer are my thoughts trapped in a glass bulb, buried in a myriad of cognitive ideas.  With one gentle turn, the essence of my words now flows as freely as those infinitesimal grains.  Ideas churn in the vortex of sand as they fight to free themselves from the bottleneck and into their new-found freedom.

Those thoughts, each small granule of sand that escapes into the path of indulgence,  remind me why I began this journey.  I am compelled to follow this yearning to put letters and words on a page.  I find myself creating characters and dialogue while I shop for groceries.  I compose outlines while driving home from work and I dream in paragraphs.

I write because I am inspired to write.   I write to indulge the little voices in my head that lead me into creativity, and I write because, through my writing, I have finally discovered who I was meant to be.