Still Asking…

After nearly a year, I’m still asking why. But, more and more, I’m seeing that asking is the most important part. I find myself walking through my day, taking mental notes on what I see and hear, and asking why. Why is the sky blue? Why do so many drivers here stop a car length before the stop line? Why do I dream the things I dream? Why do we punish criminals the way that we do? Why does the roof of my mouth itch? All sorts of questions, popping in and out of existence, and I haven’t written any of it down.

Rarely do I find complete answers, but that isn’t as important as what I always find, and that’s more questions. My muse has woken, and she’s full up on life’s little, and not so little, mysteries. So, while she’s awake I’m going to put her to work, and start writing again. I don’t know where this is going, but that’s half the fun.