“The world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers and cities; but to know someone who thinks and feels with us, and who, though distant, is close to us in spirit, this makes the earth for us an inhabited garden.” —Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I’ve been afraid to write. It’s been how long? A year? Ouch. I hide behind work. I hide behind my passion to create for others. I hide behind a teething babe who is growing too fast. I hide behind a toddler who cries out for me to squeeze awkwardly in the tub with her and make pretend flavored teas with Dora the Explorer bubbles. I hide behind my longing for a sense of community, a need I’m embarrassed to admit.
But the pull to come out is getting stronger than the pull to disappear into excuses (or laundry or book projects).
It’s not just about writing. Stringing a bunch of constants and vowels together with the hope of saying something that will make you think I’m brilliant. Or being so disciplined and consistent with blogging it becomes a mindless chore.
I’ve been awakened by you.
By old friends who ring nostalgia with fond memories. By new ones whose journey I’d like to witness. By a sister who is truly my soul mate. By a client who through the gift of storytelling has learned it starts with listening to others. By my talented friend Ruth who so magically couples vulnerability and strength (and has encouraged me to take this step).
And so, I write because it reminds me that I do love people. And I learn from and am inspired by them. And they’re like me. In a way, we’re all the same. At times, confident and shaky. Wandering and found. Loved and lost. Busy and breathless. Wondering and hopeful.
Thank you for stopping by. Thank you for reading. I hope to learn about you as time passes. Life can be hard sometimes, empty even when it’s full. And it’s nice to nestle and rest a while in someone else’s soul.
So, tell me. What will I find in yours?