Life for me (for us) has been
tossed in a blender. Right now it is switched on hi. If I wasn’t so afraid of
boredom and lack of purpose I’d probably jump out of the jar and head for the
couch. If I wasn’t so concerned about time running out I’d probably stop the
quest to move forward. If I didn’t have a wake-up call in March I’d be going
along as if I didn’t have a f-en care in the world. But that smack in the face
by the reality of motility still raises a welt from time to time.
So I ask myself:
Why write?
Why dream?
Why try?
I’ll tell you why.
Because writing seeps out of the
soul like no other art. Through symbols it is a silent communication of spirit
from mind to mind, heart to heart. It is said that a picture is worth a
thousand words. I say a simple phrase can paint a gallery of pictures.
I am not proclaiming a competition among
art forms. I paint and have won first place ribbons. I play the piano and have
written music for a band and have basked in applause.
For me the last thirty-plus years of
writing has been the most meaningful. Published hundreds of times as an essayist,
op-ed writer, and columnist has taught me the power, the joy and the responsibility
we must realize as writers. And I have come to know how much I still have to
learn.
That’s why I continue to write,
dream and try to tell my story.
I am a book.
So are you.
Sometimes the pages are flipped
fast and sometimes they turn slowly. I’m not ready to shelf my book of efforts
and dreams. I’m not willing to give up.
My latest project?
It is about that one thing families always
hold close until the very end, secrets. Not the nasty ones. Not the controversial.
This multi-generational story is about that one thing we hold so dear, survival
of the spirit when the last wisp of hope departs.
This project has taught me that sometimes
hope hides just beyond the tree line. A walk in the woods, taking an old path, creating
a new one is what sustains my effort to make it to the place I never knew
existed.
Come on. Wear comfortable shoes and
walk with me.
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