I love merry go rounds, especially the old ornate ones. As I scrutinize the horses and sometimes, if I’m lucky, elephants, tigers, and ostriches going round and round, I feel like a little kid again picking out which one I want to ride. Waiting for my turn, I begin to strategize how to get to my favored animal before anyone else does.

The ride stops, the kids dismount and walk ever so slowly to the exit. I wait for the gate to open.

“And they’re OFF . . “

As quick and dignified as I can (I am a middle age woman now and would look a little ridiculous running full charge), I rush toward my horse keeping in mind option #2 just in case some little kid beats me to #1.

Victory! I mount my charge and await the music.

It’s not the most thrilling ride. It simply goes round and round, and, if you didn’t accidentally pick a “dud” horse, up and down. But between the music and the color and the seeing the world from 360 degrees a few times over, my heart is lightened and filled full.

Going round and round helps me see.

My best writing, and consequently, best posts, seem to come from two extreme places . . struggle and pain or flying high.

Struggle clarifies truth. That’s an easy place to write from. On the other hand, red letter days celebrate life, another great place to find fodder for words.

The hardest place for me to write is from the in between, which happens to be where most of my life is lived.

Things just don’t seem important enough to chronicle when my days go round and round from one task to the next.

Recently, I read a challenge to live first, then write.

This makes me think I need to make my living write worthy OR recognize what’s in it that already is! It takes some scrutiny to see the value in the day to day, but I know it’s there.

Writing has always helped me see. Ironic. It seems the inspiration I need to write is found in my writing. So which comes first . . the writing or the inspiration?

Yes.

See. I even figured it out here as I wrote about having nothing noteworthy to write. Writing about nothing has helped me see that writing gives me something.

Writing is the vehicle that helps me see the value in my days. I see the color and joy and hear the music. 

And round and round she goes!

What helps you see?