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My Book on Strategic Decision Making

My Book on Strategic Decision Making
Applying the Analytic Hierarchy Process

Monday, September 15, 2014

Why do I read and why do I write?

Why do I Read and why do I write?

A perplexing question.

One reason is, obviously, that I have been trained to read and also form sentences that can be comprehensible for others. But of course I have choice. Not to read and not to write is a choice that I can opt for. Its just that I opted for doing it rather than not doing it.

Answer for reading that came to my mind when I was triggered to answer - and this is an eyeopener for me - "I read to understand, know, and connect with the mind, heart, and possibly with the soul of the writer. It looks like a need to connect and find the universal within all of us".

And surprisingly that seems to be true for writing as well. The writing - the best that you can express in words - will be to put mind, heart, and soul in what ever you are writing - be it a report or romance. If your writing has your soul it will connect with your readers as it can not be any different from their soul. When you write put your soul in it and that is it. To maximize the life in each moment of living and expression requires writing from the core of you.

When "I" dissolves away from your writing and expression remains the core of what you are, that becomes the final version of what you have written. The expression need to be devoid of you so that it becomes as close to the reader as your soul can be. That, I believe, is all there is to writing!

Whats others have mentioned as their reasons on "writing"

Fascinating collection of "On writing" is at BrainPickings

One of posts - by David Foster Wallace makes interesting reading :)

Sunday, July 13, 2014

Stuck in the Crevices of My Heart - a poem

Something, but may not be an Ode to Neruda ...on his birthday (tribute to Pablo Neruda)

Neruda's poem

Stuck in the Crevices of My Heart

I found a note
Written many years ago
Stuck in the crevices of my heart

It was written to you,
completely about you
and for you.

It could have grown,
it could have mingled with the streams of life flowing in my veins,
But it remained stuck in the crevices of my heart.

I can not,
I could not,
I may never
Gather so much of myself
To extract that note written
Many years ago,

Not that I fear
That the thread that binds
my heart and me together
Will shatter as a broken glass,
Smattering the pieces inside and outside me,
If I just remove the note stuck in the crevices of my heart.

I fear that mere removal
Will take you of that time
Away
From me
And I may realize that
I have lived my life as you of that time
Without me of that time -
That went away,
perhaps forever
With you of that time.

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