August 27, 2012 § 86 Comments
A little more than four months ago I began writing this blog. All to pre-promote a book project. Instrumental. Means to an end. Nothing more than that.
Something happened. I found myself drawn to this writing. Drawn like never before. I felt what every writer feels- the thirst for the work. The writing itself. Not a means to anything.
Something else happened. People. People came and read what I wrote. Many of them left messages. Many of them came back, again and again. They brought me energy and strength, filled my pages with their kind and thoughtful responses. They let me see their work- their amazing, stunning work.
Generous, brilliant, loving people. Great, great writers. People struggling with illness, depression. Artists of every medium- the camera, pen and ink, the canvas. Exceptional athletes seeking outer and inner fitness. Wanderers. Mothers and fathers. Buddhists, Christians, Pagans. Beautiful, romantic voices. Flowing, rhythmic poets.
Their voices sometimes filled with joy, sometimes with anger, sometimes with aching, nearly unbearable, pain. But always real, always present.
My work is intertwined now with theirs. I feel surrounded by their spirit. Not alone.
They are with me now. And I am with them.