Those empty journals Have given me pause. I listened to the interview with Terry Tempest Williams. She emphasized the importance and integrity of the human individual, noting the diversity of thought amongst her family. The thought for me in regarding that and the journals is in the direction of word/thought consumerism. When do I cross the line between thought and word that transforms me, creates spaciousness, and word/thought that is materialistic/consumerist? Her mother's empty journals remind me to be with the other, in real time, physically, depending less on that persons verbal repository left behind, enjoying the actual presence of the person. My dad and I could sit for some time, saying nothing. He died 20 years ago and still, I feel the presence of him in calm silence, no word consumed.
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