When my children were small "why" was a word which cropped all the time at the beginning of sentences. "Why" would often proceed moments of amusement and laughter when I was forced to explain all sorts of weird and wonderful topics.
When I was a teenager, and I wondered how the world worked and was searching for those answers I often ask myself "why" questions. More often than not, I couldn't come up with answers about religion or existence or even about algebra but, eventually, I developed my own thoughts on life and accepted this life for what it is. I learnt that when it comes to philosophy, you don't always have to have the answer but sometimes contemplating issues give you a better perspective and appreciation of life.
Now, as I move through middle-age towards inevitable death, I wonder "Why" my life is turning out as it is.
I have some answers to some of my questions and for others, I don't. Those unanswered questions are difficult to lay to rest.
But somehow I must let them go. Hopefully, writing will be my cure.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Birdsong to Wokesong
Many years ago, I read Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks. It's a terrific, emotive book that now sits on school syllabuses alongside other p...
-
Friends, Romans, Bloggers lend me your ears! ’Cos the Mad Housewife needs to change her blog name. I know, I know, I should have done my ho...
-
Well. It’s about time I wrote another post; I’m sure you must all think I’m a lazy good for nothing housewife who sits nibbling chocolate ch... -
Well, it wasn’t long after I’d finished posting yesterday when Usha left her comment asking me if I was going to be allowed a period of mou...
W is for Why and Writing
ReplyDeleteThose why questions used to drive me crazy!!
ReplyDeleteMy eldest son was a "why" child. Used to drive me nuts. If the answer to a question is not going to serve a purpose you should definitely let it go and definitely keep writing :)
ReplyDeleteI haven't done much writing lately but, whenever I have, just the process seems to help make sense of stuff. It's as if, once aired, all the unknowables seem ... contained and finite. At least, they do until more stuff/life/problems pile in.
ReplyDelete