I hardly need to say this because we all know it, but hey, it’s been a weird couple of years. This November I am grateful for family members and friends who have accompanied me on this journey. But I also want to say I am so grateful for Writing, the actual activity, the practice of writing. Writing has shaped my identity as poet/artist/teacher/witness. Even when I have felt too sad/anxious/distracted to write, Writing has waited patiently for me to come back to my notebook, to play, to seek healing, to find purpose.
Thank you to my Thursday night writing group, led by John Crandall. They have all given me the support to post these brand new barely edited stories, urging me to share them just for the fun of it, to invite in a bit of adventure and discovery.
Writing and my fellow writers have sustained me for five decades, through beautiful, crazy years of lack and plenty, laughter and tears, and laughter through tears. Writing is my everything, the lens through which I see the world, my passport to authenticity.
Thank you to everyone who reads these simple offering I post each week. I pray that you may all find such passion in your lives.
Photo by Ann on Unsplash