Sunday, July 11, 2010

Today


I thought about taking a break from blogging or at least spilling my anxieties and more onto the virtual page. But I really don't want to because it's one of the few things I do that are really, really enjoyable. Hmmm-- enjoyable might not be the right word, though, as spilling my worries and fears is a relief and, at best, cathartic (one's identity cannot and mine will not be wrapped up in misery, even a common one).

I love having a place to put things that I love, whether it's poetry or photos or excerpts from movies and music and observations about mundane craziness. I don't love but need a place to parse out my complex thoughts on disability, of coping with challenges and getting through and into this life that I'm leading. It's far less lonely to do this, to think almost aloud when I know that someone, somewhere, is listening.

And then there's the inspiration -- the amazing storytelling that I read every single day. The poetry and design and crafting and incredible living -- the writing that I do offline has been inspired, I think, because of this sharing, and I don't think I could now do without it just as I could not stop writing.

I've gotten several emails over the last few days from some of you. Worried emails, sweet emails, concerned emails - that I'm in a dark place, that things are just too, well, too. And you are right. I am in a dark place, but it isn't unfamiliar and I'm not lost. I can see you and hear you.

In the middle of the journey of our life I came to myself within a dark wood where the straight way was lost.
                       Dante 


13 comments:

  1. "O light! This is the cry of all the characters of ancient drama brought face to face with their fate. This last resort was ours, too, and I knew it now. In the middle of winter I at last discovered that there was in me an invincible summer."

    Albert Camus

    ReplyDelete
  2. James Hillman, among others, would remind us (perhaps annoyingly) that there are stories to be gathered in those woods.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Sending you light for your darkness.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I went away for the weekend (yes, again - I think I'm in avoidance mode) and have just returned to catch up on blog reading. Thinking of you and hoping that the darkness dissipates soon.

    ReplyDelete
  5. it's as much a part of the journey as everything else. As long as you know it. In the end, the journey matters as much as the end. I think.

    ReplyDelete
  6. i move in and out of dark water..and there is healing here.
    powerful, meaningful healing.
    i see you, i marvel. i hear you,
    my heart endears itself to you.
    this is important work, this willingness and connection.

    you are seen, you are heard, sometimes that is enough to tip the scale in an upward motion.

    (i would miss you desperately.)

    ReplyDelete
  7. I'm so glad you continue to write.

    Hugs to you and Sophie! xo

    ReplyDelete
  8. im glad you going to continue your daily blogging. we get so much out of your writing, perhaps even more than you receive from writing it. there would be a big void for me if you took a hiatus. but taking care of you is first priority and perhaps you need to be in the dark right now. what's that persian proverb? "When it's dark enough, you can see the stars." sometimes, we need to close our eyes so we can truly see.
    big hugs!

    ReplyDelete
  9. I am waving to you from my own small boat. Can you see my tiny lantern?

    ReplyDelete
  10. The darkness is as big a part of life as the lightness is. It's just the not so fun part.

    I hope you come out of the shadows soon.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Is there EVER a straight way? Ah, love. I think of you kicking over some bushels to find the light lurking there underneath, just waiting to be freed.
    You do that with your words, you know. You do.

    ReplyDelete
  12. You've become a part of my day. I had a pet lightening bug as a child. Her name is Fiona. She's followed me all over the country. I'm sending her out to the coast to look for you. Watch for her.

    Best,
    Bonnie

    ReplyDelete
  13. I, too, find such inspirational and hopeful community in the blogging universe. I love that Dante quote -- I used it in my memoir manuscript -- referring to my long and anxious period of unbelief. There is often surprisingly light that appears in the darkest darkness.

    ReplyDelete

LinkWithin

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...