I find myself from time to time gazing at a blank piece of paper, my imagination running amok with possibilities; ideas that could cover the page. There’s something about the crisp look of blank paper that always excites me. Possibly since the page comes across as fresh and untarnished yet has the outward appearance that it desperately needs to be filled with knowledge.
Perhaps it’s the possible ideas that may fill the page. Ideas that may become insightful, that possess imaginative or prolific thought that it could change our very outlook on humanity and the world. The US Constitution, Declaration of Independence, and even Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech all started with a simple piece of blank paper.
When assessing what one solitary piece of paper could signify and has represented to people throughout history the notion in itself creates a dilemma for me when I press my pen down and attempt to write. Before I can begin with the first word I second guess myself whether or not my words are valuable enough to fill that page. Can I personally aspire to greatness like those who came before me like all the Miltons, the Thomas Jeffersons and Jack Londons of history who used pen and paper to create works or literary art? Or will my page be nothing more than recycled waste flawed by overindulgence and delusions of grandeur? Yes, well this will most likely be the case.
In spite of my private delusions I also wonder how many pieces of blank paper have been wadded up into so many little wastebasket-balls or one-flight airplanes? No, not all pieces of paper are preordained to suspend graciously from a museum wall or tucked away into so many hallowed books. Most will be sacrificed for the nobility of all creative reflection. Unfortunately for me I can’t avoid perceiving a piece of picturesque paper and not feel awkward writing nonsense on it. Thank goodness for the invention of computers and blogs to save me from that awkward feeling.
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