Porch of Reflection


I was just on the porch, smoking (which I'll probably be doing very shortly again), when my mind meandered to one of my favorite words.

I've got this spot on my website where one can add their favorite words to a growing list of excellent examples of letter-combinations that people love, where I'd normally add this word.

But since I'm being a good blogger, and still finding my groove, and using this as one of those personal diary sort of thing with the hope that the junk I blab about hits a common chord in a vast sampling of my fellow humans, I thought I'd put that word here. With all these other words.

Volition.

I love that word. I like how it sounds. Powerful. Almost sinister, but quite the opposite in meaning. It almost says violence. It almost makes me feel like that's what it says. Volition makes me hear the strong cello notes of a vapid symphony. It pries at something in me. And somewhere in it there's a field of white flowers under a skyfull of sun.

It's the act of making conscious decisions.

Here's a spot to read the definition: Volition

So while I hear music, and see the perfection of Nature down in those three syllables, I feel the violent chaos from which those two gloriously arranged living patterns are born. And it feels like the home of my soul. That's the scary part of volition.

I'm conscious of my free-will. I like to think that I spend my days in a constant state of volition. But of course I don't. Not here in the day-to-day level of things, anyway. There is more than my own volition at work in the world, and many times during a single day, I will be bent to the will of another.

So volition is standing up. Claiming power.

That shit is scary.

Because with a tiny amount of power, comes a tiny amount of responsibilty. Imagine what that would say if you changed the word "tiny" to "great" (wink-wink)... Who the hell wants to be responsible?

Volition is a hard word to handle.

Definately one of my favorites.