The beauty in a blank page

You know those people in life who constantly make you feel new, fresh, and curious? They make us all feel alive. They make us delve deeper in the everyday world. They force us outside of our comfort zones. And they ask deep, probing questions that go far below the surface.

While these folks might both stoke the fire of our passions and at the same time drive us nuts, there’s no question in my mind that they are the ones who change the world – one thought at a time. Through their infectious way of communicating, they teach others to look at the world around them and to change it.

One such person in my life presented me with his greatest fear once. To him, a blank piece of paper was something that made him tremble with apprehension. Give him a few bullet points, a framework, or a simple sentence about a concept or an idea and he was off to the races on different ways to solve the problem in front of him. But, given nothing to work with but pen and paper, he stalled.

For me, someone who loves the challenge of creating words and phrases that spin a story at a set cadence, this point of view was life changing. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE AFRAID OF A BLANK PAGE?” I wanted to shout. Just think of all of the possibilities. The stories that could be written and consumed voraciously by a captive audience. The data that could be formulated to tell a completely different kind of tale.

For me, a blank sheet of paper is a lot of things. It’s new start. There’s something fresh and clean, and almost healing, about the untapped potential in front of me.Β  There are no expectations, strategies or objectives set – other than writing, feeling, communicating. I love this!

And whether I get an audience can be 1, or none… a blank sheet of paper is therapy.Β  It’s invigorating, it’s time to step out of my own consciousness and create. Time to understand. Because, sometimes what you write without the weight of expectation is the healing salve with which the soul regenerates.

So to me – there’s beauty in nothing. Especially when that nothingness is a blank page, a free hour to write, and a wandering mind.

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