an echo of moments

I write down a lot of fragments and phrases but I’m very bad about making note of their context. I often don’t remember what I was doing when the fragment came to mind, when the phrase rang in my head, and so that connection of the fragment to its source is then lost in the mists of time and memory.

In one sense, I’m sad that I don’t have that context; that the phrase has lost its connection to its moment of generation. But on the other hand, the lack of connection creates a window of freedom; the fragment isn’t bound by that context, that connection, and it is then free to develop in a completely different direction.

And that holds for the title of this blog. I found it on the page of blog notes in the soon-to-be-completed volume of my daily journal, waiting patiently for me to stumble across it and give its time.

And there is a recursiveness here. These fragment and phrases that I note down, they echo. There was something in them, which caused me to note them down in the first place, and regardless of their origin story, they then continue to echo.

Six syllables is precisely the wrong number of syllables, between five and seven, to be used in a haiku. Perhaps I’ll see whether I can tinker with the phrase, modify it, bend it to fit cleanly in a haiku, or perhaps I’ll leave it as it is. Perhaps its destiny is not haiku.

But moments do echo. As I go through my days, I can still hear echoes from years ago in some cases, individual moments that should be inconsequential but nonetheless still ring, the peal of distant bells across the years.

~ by Jim Anderson on 14 November 2021.

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