To write the word is to not write in the space where the most important part of nothing occurs.
In the Middle Ages there were no spaces.    No one read silently.    Everything written had to be
                            read aloud to be understood.    Some say a deeper consciousness came
                                                                              with the insertion of
                                                                                        the space,

                                                                         and deep solitary reading
                                                                                         was born.

                                          “The human mind became not only literate but literary.”1

Ask the painter with his plain canvas about his process. How he starts with nothing then adds something, but there must always be nothing between any further something he might add. 
Or more succinctly,
                                                      something    nothing    something    nothing. 

The integrity of the picture plane remains intact. Its two-dimensional shape unbounded while a gradient shadow belies the eye to read a third dimension. Not to mention impasto, which can actually cast a shadow across something and nothing in the right light. The paint applied thickly with a palette knife.
                                                                   
                                                                    Please pause here and reflect. 

There is more we do not know than what we think we know about the brain. How do the sense organs expand to understand the environmental stimulus formerly known as red? How does the taste of a cookie dipped in lime blossom tea recall seven volumes of a life? Does Karl Pibram’s holographic model still apply where every part contains a memory of the whole between the spaces?
                           Insert a synapse and    neurotransmitter    to start the memory retrieval process.
                                                                     Consult an expert on the matter.

                                                                     If you’re hungry have a cookie
            before you shift from page to screen, and hope we do not lose the neural circuits that allow
                                               the rich interpretive read and thus are forced to reinvent
                                                                     the cereal box decoder ring.

1.  Nicholas Carr, AS TECHNOLOGY ADVANCES, DEEP READING SUFFERS, SFGATE.COM SUNDAY, JUNE 20, 2010

(for John)

The ‘if’ sets up the futile ground of possibility while the ‘only’ that’s implied
underlines the ruefulness of being human, of being a mother, of having seen
too much of what’s disguised as what is wanted. Sometimes it is the dog
that is missing, or the dog could save the day, or the dog chases after
the rabbit yipping its high-pitched joy only to return winded with a slobbery
grin. The only answer to “if only.”

When the idiom changes to if…son…motorcycle and the only becomes
if only he had not inherited my need for speed, my need to risk everything
to ride the rims of my desire to the edge of what I thought I wanted,
and the only is also my only child then I must confront my thoughts
of maim and mayhem, or worse a world without him. I plead, I bargain
then learn to say and mean it:

I trust whatever is guiding you to this road on this iconic steed, that you are
aware of your invisibility, vulnerability, the unforgiving nature of concrete
and loose gravel, that you have learned to care for the beast that will carry
you and keep it well maintained. I give you my confidence in your ability
to make good decisions and my belief that we all choose our paths
for the reason known and the reason unknown.

Yes, yes, my confidence is in your good judgment, your healthy appreciation
of your life. I will tell you that I will not worry, and I will believe it is possible
within me. If worry were productive, the world would be a different place.
The lessons to come are your own, and I hope that any landings you have
are soft ones. Remember what Grandma Martin said, “Don’t go any faster
than your angels can fly.”

Yes, yes, I will buy you the leather jacket. The black one silver-studded
to catch the light.