Jaymes Ian Woode

Let’s connect on: Twitter @dynowrite and FaceBook @ Jaymes Ian Woode!  Thank you for visiting.  I was asked once, “What is the meaning of life.”  At first, I believe I squinted and stared into my coffee.  Then, I took a sip and let out a most pleasant sigh.  I looked at the weathered face across from me, scraggly grey beard, canyon sized wrinkles encompassing intelligent blue eyes, and replied, “What is life without meaning?”  The old fisherman slid his chair back and stood, placing a five-dollar bill on the table for his coffee and mine.  After one last sip, he reached his hand across the creaking wood slat.  I shook it.  He walked away, boarding his vessel and drifting back into sea.  He was a fisherman.  Fishing was what gave his life meaning.  It is the meaning of his life. 

I write.  Though the fisherman and I both starve on occasion, our souls weathered by the few occurrences over the test of time, our lives are meaningful.  That man, the fisherman, was a one time meeting off the empty shores of the northeast.  We have never crossed paths again, though he has crossed my thoughts a thousand times.  As he sat at across from me, he made a bet that I gladly accepted.  His bet, that I would finish my coffee before him.  He lost, paid, walked away forever.  Drinking coffee to him, by way of my insight, distracted him from what he loved doing most, fishing.  For me, coffee added meaning to my life so there was no way I was going to lose.  I would savor every drop.  However, the old sailor knew I would win.  He understood what makes us who we are and he learned, after making the bet, that I am a writer.

We are each single trees though we each are part of a great forest! 


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