A pamphlet came to me in the mail. It did not come to me actually. It was not addressed to me. The post master rolled it up and shoved it into the little metal square where I collect mail rather than my neighbors little metal square where it was addressed. I flipped through and discovered an interview with a writer. I don’t recall his name, and his name doesn’t seem important to me right now. What is important is what he said. “Don’t start writing when you know what you want to say, if you do, that’s propaganda. Write to discover your meaning.”
His words resonated with me. I spend my day near my computer or my phone pursuing objectives. I do not want to pursue objectives in my writing. I want to discover something there I did not know. I want to follow what I discover to a place that is not my own. And through it, wake up elsewhere…Maybe I’ll recognize the sites and the sounds, but I want the feelings to be different—so much rawer than my own—a part of my life I recognize but can not claim.
A Life of Wonder 
Interesting clarification. I enjoy see clearly Marcy Lu