The Beauty Of Repetition

Last week, newly acquired Azul Smocker provided the theme of “the joy of repetition”; so, my interpretation of the saying was formulated on my own recent experience.

Check it out below:

Months passed as spring had shown its bright and enthusiastic face over the course of May. I sit here, sprung off of the past that was once joyous between the fingerprints that have left evidence over the notes application of my IPhone 4 on the daily, never to be the same since. Mild negligence has left a mark on my weary fingertips that made continuous and consistent magic from blank to ink and emptiness to typewritten text. The question that I ask myself at this moment and a few days past, “Where did the love, inspiration and repetition go?”

It was only a year ago since I set my ultimate writing goal, to write until my thoughts and emotions were flushed from the eclectic colorful ink smeared elegantly on the manufactured white plane that understands the joy, frustration, anger and dismays of my day within three hundred sixty five mornings, afternoons and evenings.

Inspiration was and still ubiquitous to my senses. It was nowhere to be hidden from my line of sight. I could smell it in the air as a race of ideas rushed through my head, ready to burst like a starburst touching the tip of my tongue in excitement. It is only right that I share my sense of touch with my reliable electronic sidekick. Vicariously, I live through the formed sentences and fragments that read me like a hard covered book. Hence, I typed until I wrote in my hard covered marble notebook to transcribe what was conveyed before. And voila! Magic is born.

I kept going like the Energizer bunny. Nothing could prevent the ideas that rushed through my pen. Now, I lost that same insatiable hunger of last year. I treated it like a job on the daily, to be unemployed with dissipating motivation. With that said, I have come back to my senses, to re-experience what once was, back to practice.

I learned as a kid that practice makes perfect. Now, that I am older, practice makes permanent. Repetition is the father of learning by which I learned in a documentary. It is my strongest source of improvement that I’ve let pass me by in recent time. I am going back to the past, to experience the joy of repetition, never to neglect the craft that made me the poet of today.

What was re-affirmed at Sunday’s meeting -> practice + repetition + consistency = PERMANENT. With that universal mathematical equation implanted within my medulla oblongata, I will retain that within the shelf of my memory and apply it daily to my poetry and writing.

Let the rigorous repetition begin!

Jeff L.

Smock Salute!