Friday, December 21, 2012

Comfort and Joy

Today there are desperate people living daily with severe anxiety, depression, addiction, and a multitude of painful challenges.  I'm becoming more aware of this troubling society as I spend time outside of my usual circle of internet haunts.  I'm disturbed by television news and the internet.

Disturbed and afraid.

This expanding perspective has granted the gift of gratitude for being me.

Just me, the way I really am.

And while I am feeling good about my situation in life, I realize that the practice of writing is an act that constructs an identity.  What I write here effects the shape and shadows, the light and lines of my soul mass, if souls can contain weight or form.  Writing is a fluid act of creating me.

I have a mind, and I'm training it to obedience and purpose.  It is serious business, and I am a serious person. On another level, writing is an act of letting go.  It is a way of being open, of letting something flow and fall through me.

 I am also lighthearted and humorous and can be incredibly silly in real life.  But sometimes that never makes it to the page.  I hope to include that part of me more often. 

    As a writer constructing the soul mass, I have often thought of leaving the internet entirely for a long sabbatical, perhaps for the rest of my life.  I sometimes wonder:  what good is it really contributing to the quality of my life?  Shouldn't I be out in the garden, in the woods, on the lake?  Then I remember that I am developing within a loving community as well as a troubled society. I don't want to write by myself in a room of my own, or on a grassy hill with no one to talk to. I need the nurturers, the spiritual guides, the seekers, the positive, loving kind people who are also human and fallible.  I need those kinds of teachers for my mind and heart the way my body needs healthy nutrition and plenty of sleep, fresh air and exercise.  Sure, those kinds of writers do exist in the library on a shelf, but they are rare.  There is a lot of serious intellect on those shelves, not a bounty of thoughtful people sharing the goodness of ordinary daily life in a grateful way.  The library is not blogland.

I need living friends whose act of writing kindness uplift my life and help me to carry the kindness outward into the three dimensional world.  I need their energy of goodness.  It is one of the best gifts I receive.


Merry Christmas to all of my wonderful, vibrant, loving and kind friends here.  Peace and blessings of comfort and joy.









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