bookstoreI woke up this morning with a thousand themes, words, ideas that I was going to write about.  I always do, and I tend to spend a couple of hours shifting through those ideas and finding the one that most describes what I need to say at this moment.  Some of the ideas I keep for tomorrow, and others I simply discard and never think of again.  Usually they are incredibly personal, as I am not sure what else your writing should be, but incredibly personal.  And despite the fear, the very real concern I often have of those reading this blog, of those following this blog, and even those who will find this blog, I write.

I write knowing that I might make someone angry, or hurt their feelings.  I write with music coming through my speakers moving to bring the emotional pain, the emotional truth that we are all trying to find, through my simple words.  I don’t write to be profound; I don’t write to win awards.  I write because it is healthy for me.  I write because it is the only way that I am learning how to honestly survive.  The only way I can make myself find the solution to unanswerable questions.

At my job I took a test to learn how I retain knowledge, learn new concepts. It wasn’t a difficult test, and quite honestly I knew the answer before I began.  It is important to know how you learn, because when given a choice it is important to pick the way that is best for you.  It will not only bring your own important success, but it will also alleviate all that stress and feelings of expectation that your teachers have.  So I took this test, and it came out clearly that I learn by reading and writing.

What was funny to me was how many people learn in a thousand ways.  Some of the participants literally learned in all five ways.  I wasn’t sure how a test could figure that one out, but as I don’t know how Cosmo quizzes can tell you if you are hot or not, I decided it wasn’t my place to question.  But my results were overwhelmingly reading and writing.  If I read, or if I write, the lesson needed is undeniably etched in my brain.  Tell me, show me, make me do it myself…nothing.  Let me read the owner’s manual…got it.

But this was a truth that I already knew.  This was a truth I think I have known from my childhood.  To this day, I can remember my ninth grade English final…the five hundred words I had to remember and define.  And all I did was read them and write them on a 4×6 note card.  The knowledge that I learn by reading and writing doesn’t truly change anything.  However, it makes understanding the power of this blog and the words that I write much more palpable.

Spending time working on this blog, determining what I am going to write about, and spending a couple of minutes each day writing about my topics, is not a waste of time. I am learning that by writing my problems, my concerns, my joys, and even my disappointments down I can put them into perspective.  I can make sense of them.  Rather than allowing them to simply float through the empty space that surrounds all of my dreams, my hopes and even the voices in my head, I can find definition and give those ethereal ghosts actual substance and therefore, weight.

I write this blog for my own enjoyment.  But every once in a while, I get a comment back.  I enjoy all the comments I receive, it gives my sometimes beaten ego a little boost.  It gives me a complete second of thrill, as I realize that I gave someone more than I thought I was capable of.  I don’t have a lot of talent, never really have.  I can’t play sports to save my life, I am not interested in performing either through work or on stage, and I am not a leader.  But I can write; some days better than others.  I can combine a few simple words and get my point across; always have.

If you have read any of my blogs lately you will notice that my heart isn’t very happy.  It is slowly and systematically breaking into millions of pieces, and I don’t know what to do.  And while I will figure it out, and hopefully, make the best decisions for me and my children, there are days that I wonder if it is possible.  This life gives us such little joy.  It is difficult, often disappointing, and doesn’t reflect the simple dreams that we believe so faithfully.  It is a journey that has no promise, no happy ending and certainly no ability to sustain the very heart and soul we give it.

However, it is vital to my peace and to my very existence to find moments of perfection.  Not simple happiness, or even simple hope, but of absolute perfection.  The bright eyes of my children, and their perfection, even in their own imperfection.  The memory of the first kiss from my husband.  The memory of the dawn mixing with the salt of the air as I sat on a dock, drinking my coffee.  The moonlight so much brighter than my imagination.  Even the perfection found in the silence is important.

There is also perfection in a simple note to a stranger.  Yesterday, like has happened time and time again, I received a comment about my blog from a stranger.  I don’t know who she is, the odds that I have ever met her are so slim as to be eyebrow raising.  I don’t know her story, her reason for finding my blog, and I don’t necessarily need to.  What I do know is this; her kind words so easily and perfectly put in perspective all that I am drowning in.  If you will imagine it was like someone throwing out a life preserver.  The rope is not attached so I can’t be pulled in, but for a single second I can rest my weary heart and simply hold on.  That is the power of words. Especially the power of words to a stranger.

Don’t forget to give your words to someone who may need them.  Don’t forget to take a second to throw that life-preserver out into the water; someone needs it desperately.  Don’t forget to shout thank you at the top of your lungs for all the incredible moments that you are given from strangers.  Don’t forget that words, kind words, hurtful words, are more powerful than any bullet ever found.  Say I love you.  Say thank you. Say I forgive you. Simply say.

 

 

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