Wednesday, June 16, 2010

What is important is invisible...

Collage by Lani, vintage girl from PaperWhimsy textures from ghostbones.

William Murtha asked Nic Askew if he’d write 100 words for this book, 100 Word, Two Hundred Visionaries, along with Neale Donald Walsch, Jane Goodall, Alice Walker and 196 others. Nic's (121) words are below, and you can hear him read them here.   

‘as the light makes its way’
A man had lived in his imagination. Ever since he was a boy. For it was full of wonder and adventure when set against
the outer world that housed his everyday life. His imagination surrounded him in light.
The outer world, in a darker shade. But as he waited for this outer world to catch the light,
he realised that it might not. And so he stepped out into the world,
hand in hand with his imagination. Knowing that together they would bring
light to the darkest of corners. — And he is you. And me. And together, the imagination of our collective soul
has already begun its inevitable work. As the light makes its way towards
the experience of the world.

If you had only one hundred words left and you wanted to leave something behind that might open a door for someone, what would you write... or what image would you want to create? I think I'd want to create an image or a story of the treasure being within or maybe it is the search for the treasure, the exquisite experiences all  contributing to that treasure within. If we had only one hundred words left to read, what would we want to read?    Perhaps it would be that the very best things in our lives are not things at all, but experiences, friendships, good stories, and art. The very best things in our lives are probably what we create with our lives; our friendships, our words, our images and our art.


Challenge: What would your 100 words be?

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Again, what if you've never had the oportunity? What if you did these things and did them well but are prevented in doing so now by illness, age, whatever? What if you never had the chance to have the experience? No one knows what you or I feel like, only what they see or perceive to be us.The hard part is that you KNOW, KNEW, DID but can't anymore, and it's empty and painful and sad.