Tangled

I have no idea what this is. It replaced the safari installation.

I have a lot on my mind right now, but it is as tangled up as the vines above. I prefer linear thoughts, even if they show up in simultaneous legions. If A then B. Right. Wrong.

Instead I got Orlando, guns, ISIS, and Trump. Makes me sick. But you know what? On some level, nothing happened. LM still goes to his cool summer camp each day, and I teach two summer classes, two hours per day, ever weekday, back to back. That's the part that surprises me most. Life's relentless insistence on moving along.

So I won't try to write anything of tremendous substance this minute. Instead,  here are some thoughts  by Atul Gawande ON writing. He is a highly specialized surgeon who just happens to pen books and articles for The New Yorker in his free time:

I write because it's my way of finding cool ideas, thinking through hard problems and things I don't understand, and getting better at something.

The writing I love has something memorable in it - an image, a smell. It's the connection between the moment and the whole concept, weaving the micro together with the macro so that it has a hold on people - that's writing.

I was never born to write. I was taught to write. And I am still being taught to write.