As I sit down to devote myself to writing something intelligent, it is nearly Thanksgiving. I find, for all of the evil that has befallen the world this year, I still have plenty to be thankful for, indeed. I found the love of my life, someone who finally gets me the way I get him. We found something special in our sudden, but powerful connection that is irreplaceable, invaluable. and precious.
I heard a song today that made me think of us, and one line in it actually inspired me to sit down and write what I am about to say. “Well, I’m a builder of bridges,” the song said, “and I could fly us up to the moon. When your time is limited, well nothing happens too soon.” The song is “Matter of Time” by Eddie Vedder, better known as the frontman of Pearl Jam.
I’ve long been gifted with the power of putting words together in ways that sound remarkably intelligent. But, for years, I’ve drifted from fancy to fancy, not really sure how to best use my writing talents for the common good of humanity. I’ve written poetry for many years, thousands of verses, many of which have become discarded in years since, but most still hang around my archives just begging to see the light of day again.
I have countless essays on hundreds of different topics. Some are derived from notebook musings, others from actual academic assignments, and many more on topics I couldn’t shake from my conscious mind. But, a great many of them revolve around my longtime obsession with trading card games. Sure, they were helpful to particular audiences at the time they were written, but their value to the world at large has diminished as the years go on.
I’ve spent countless hours over the past year editing and refining those pieces that I feel still deserve to remain published somewhere. While I still will write here and there, I’ve certainly lost creative direction more recently, despite still note taking and musing on and off. But, hearing that song this morning made me consider something about writing that I hadn’t thought about before.
When we decide to write, create any sort of art, or construct anything at all, we automatically become builders of bridges. We are giving ourselves a way to connect with others through our works. Whether people decide to cross those bridges or not isn’t up to us. Some will just stop and stare, maybe snap a photograph. Others will come halfway, then go back. But, when someone crosses that bridge and truly connects with our art, that’s the end result we all long for when we set about to create. At least, I realize now that should be the end goal.
For years, writing became a reflex when I didn’t know what else to do with myself, but I should no longer waste this gift for petty ramblings or on subjects that don’t truly matter. That’s not to say I shouldn’t share works from my archives. In fact, I am more motivated to do so as ever, to show my growth as an artist, and to present my works in a totally nonlinear fashion makes them in a way even more timeless as the fruits of a tireless and often unappreciated artist.
There are so many subjects that I’ve refrained from writing on simply due to the fact that they could cause immeasurable controversy and grief for me. But, what if something I write builds bridges that people desperately need, somewhere they can go to connect with others who actually understand their pains and their problems. None of us truly exist in isolation from one another, and while sometimes it is self-imposed, most often it’s that the bridges that connect kindred souls simply don’t exist just yet.
In fact, it was a written piece of great artistry and soulfulness that built the most important bridge I’ve ever crossed. I wish that my works could one day build the same for others who feel empty, lost, or otherwise befuddled to find some sort of comfort in my words in the way that piece did for me. I’m not looking to be pitied as a troubled artist, as I have for so long. I am a builder of bridges through composition and wordplay.
I should no longer hold back out of fear of judgment, which is often borne from ignorance, contempt, or both. As long as the words persist in some sort of media, they forever stand as bridges, indestructible bridges from one intellect to another. My musings may simply be a sort of therapy for me, but for what they become once they are written, it’s important they be shared for others to wonder and ponder over for the rest of time.
~ Amelia <3
Photo copyright Amelia Phoenix Desertsong 2020