The Ramblings of a Redhead

The mind is a most intriguing place. Especially when it is the mind of a writer. So many stories just waiting to be told. Heroes, heroines, villains, and friends all just waiting for their windows to be opened. They yearn to be set free. Each window is different. Each one holding a unique story all of its own. An ocean of ideas fighting to be released, but only the author, their creator, can open them and allow them to fill up the blank pages. If all the windows were to be opened at once, what would happen then? Would stories that were never intended to cross collide, or rather perhaps a brand new adventure would take on a new unforeseen life. A stack of old notebooks filled to the brim with pages and pages of ideas and creations. Some are unique while others are re-imaginings of ideas already existing. The creativity is breathtaking. Nothing would be worth more than a love of writing. Who else could set these stories free if not the one who created them? The mind is a most int...

The gentle *tap* *tap* *tap* of each raindrop hitting the leaves in the trees echoes in the stillness of this grey day. I can hear a soft chirping from a bird that has taken shelter in a nearby pine tree. An occasional car drives past, and the sloshing from the tires on the wet road disturb the stillness, but the sound quickly fades leaving behind only the sound of the gentle rainfall. I glance down to the steam that rises from the cup of hot chocolate that warms my hands. The hot liquid is a sharp contrast to the crisp air. The rich flavor hits my tongue and warms my soul. There is nothing quite as refreshing as a cool autumn morning accompanied by a cup of hot chocolate. It takes me back to the days when my biggest worry was not getting in enough playtime before the sun went down. I can still hear my mother's voice calling from the back porch. I can still see the sparkle in her eyes and the smile on her face as she would surprise me and my brothers with cups of freshly made hot...

I watch the moonlight stream through the window. The gentle glow caresses the ivory keys of an old piano. I wonder, what if the rays could become fingers? Would they gently lull a melody out of the instrument? If so, what would it play? A melancholy lullaby or a sweet whisper of yesteryear? I close my eyes and listen. The night sings its song...and it is luring me to sing along.

As night falls so does the rain. The brilliant colors of autumn are washed clean by the cold autumn rain, but the bright colors fade into the shadows and the night grows older. Another day draws to a close, and I find my mind wandering to days long past...the number of sunsets I have watched, the clear nights when stars dappled the sky overhead, the full moons...all of them singing their songs in my mind, and oh, what a beautiful symphony it is. I lie and listen to the rain falling. It hits the leaves and streets, and I find myself content to just be. The puddles on the ground are much like my mood, reflective...the puddles reflecting the things around it and I of time gone by. Still the night grows even older, and autumn moves forward. The days grow shorter with each that passes. My friends, don't lose heart for the growing darkness, for dreams await, and what better time for dreaming then after the sun has set and night has taken hold?

Light begins to fill the sleeping world, and autumn's crisp chill is its dance partner. Their melody of the early morning causes me to drift between consciousness and sleep. Memories of an epic adventure are still fresh in my mind. Thoughts of a new day dawning begin to cut in to the dance. What new adventures shall today bring? As light filters through my window I can't help but smile. Each day is precious. Each day its own adventure.

That moment when you are torn between ...the epic book you are in the middle of reading and dying to find out what kind of trouble/adventure your friends will get into next. ...and the new book you just found with its unknown pages filled with new friends to be made and new adventures to be had. It seems to call out to you to open it up and delve head first into its own adventure. You look from one book to the other. An old friend and a new friend...how does one choose? So many stories to be read, adventures to be had, friends to be made, dragons to be slain... I suppose the easiest way to settle this is to stop writing about what to do and just start reading. Perhaps the true struggle is there is simply not enough time in the day to do all the reading that needs to be done.

Letters upon a page;      Paint upon a canvas;           Notes upon a piece of sheet music;                Pen,                     Brush,                          Pencil,                          Each tool...                     Each instrument...                Whether it be used to create            Music,      Art, Literature... ...they are each a piece of the soul, and each piece reflects emotion, creation, and the breathtaking beauty of the world that surrounds us. Take the time to stop and look through new eyes. Let the tantalizing spinning melodies and harmonies of your favori...