Living a Life in Dirt
Hobbies, lifestyles, adventure, experimenting, finding of self
I don’t care for dirt under my fingernails, but doing the things I enjoy in life, I always end up with dirt under my fingernails. I guess you have to make some sacrifices.
In a story I’ve been trying to write my entire life I’ve been driven by the image of plunging a hand into dirt, soft, loose dirt that you can really get your hand into and pull fistfuls up as dry dirt falls off in the wind. The dirt has a hint of red to it. As the main character does this it’s the point of understanding, connection, becoming. The beginning of life, the continuation of life, becoming part of life it all comes and goes through the dirt, the earth, everything is equal, life comes from the smallest particles, and life goes back to these same small particles. The reddish tint to the dirt is symbolic of the blood, it flows into the earth, soaks it up, brings it home.
My inability to fully do this image justice is one of the reasons that I haven’t been able to finish the story, that and I don’t have an ending. But, with the popularization of leaving the ending of stories up in the air maybe this is my time…
What are you ready for?
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