Lately, I’ve taken to writing on my commutes.
It began as a challenge. You do actually have time to write, if only you seek it, and so on.
However, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum… (he writes, considering this week’s prompt, with pun intended.)
When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love. — Marcus Aurelius, MEDITATIONS
It didn’t take long to see that writing on my way to or from ‘my day’ was a way to activate that day much sooner.
Gone was the dread of the long commute, and with it the resentment of why I had to travel so far from home to work.
By seeing the opportunity in my each morning’s solitude, there was purpose to each leg of the journey (not just the piece for which I am financially rewarded).
Cold morning, crowded Metro car. All was data, nothing better or worse.
In this purpose, I shed resentment, and in this I found gratitude.
Revisiting the words of Marcus Aurelius, there isn’t actually anything about purpose or using one’s time wisely, but that’s where writing comes in.
For a writer cannot relate by way of the arbitrary. What I write means nothing to you without you connecting it to that which mattered long before paper (or smartphone) brought us together.
So in writing, a declaration that some of me might be relayed to the strangers who read me, I celebrate the instances which Experience has left at my disposal.
Love, life, thought and breath, without these my words would be little more than interruption.
To write today is to acknowledge meaning in yesterday.
To do it on a Metro is to find meaning in that journey as well.