Thursday, December 18, 2008

Letters

I am sad today. But I don't really want to talk about that yet.

I am not really in the Christmas spirt. But I don't really want to talk about that either.

Moving on ...

I received a letter in the mail yesterday. Totally unexpected, I think the last actual letter I have opened was way back in my camp days. My friends and I often send little cards filled with warm fuzzies and sometimes notes about how Asthmatic Sheep are Evil. But an actual letter is almost unheard of. And a letter from my brother is even more shocking. But never the less there it was.

My brother is currently in New Orleans. You could ask me what he is doing and I could probably tell you with almost certainty that he is working as a project manager for a non-profit organization that is helping with the rebuilding of the city. And that I think it has something to do with needing volunteer experience to get into an MBA program. And that he has an apartment near the French Quarter and that I am planning on visiting in February for Mardi Gras. But before he went to New Orleans he was in Cincinnati working on the Obama campaign in general and encouraging people to come out and vote in specific. Reading his letter last night a)made me homesick and b)made me realize that while I might not understand entirely where all of this is coming from, I am very very proud of him.

He writes: "... it was rewarding to see the people laugh, smile and cry after having cast their ballot in this historic election. I witnessed people brave rain, cold and hour long lines, to have their voices heard. This was democracy in action and the communal cry was that a new type of action is needed - more and more people are realizing that their responsibility extends further than one vote every 4 years... His (Obama's) campaign became a political movement of people longing to fill the 40 year void without a cause as noble as the right to vote ... One afternoon I took off from the campaign ... to head out in search of something I materially "needed" only to be reminded ... that life is all about the journey ..."

So I am reminded. Life is all about the journey. There may be days when I will stumble. There may be days when I need to keep running when I would rather stand still. There may be days when many miles are covered in seemingly effortless steps. What matters is what I learn with each step, the good I take from each day, and the knowledge that one day I will get where I am going and all of the hardships and moments of celebration will be a part of that story.

Sunday, December 07, 2008

Whispers

I think about writing all the time. When I am running, when I am swimming, when I am lifting weights. When I am cooking, when I am eating. When I am driving, when I am walking. Every waking moment, and some sleeping ones too, I am thinking about writing. I am running words and phrases through my head. I am trying to feel how the sentence will look on the page, how the syllables will sound, how the pictures will be formed.

And yet my pen (in all honesty my keyboard) is silent.

There have been so many moments this past year that I have longed to share.

I have lost many things, many people, over the course of 2008, and I have wanted to use language to make those losses tangible, to explain what and how and why I have lost.

I have gained many things, many people, over the course of 2008 and I have wanted to use language to celebrate those joys, to echo my laughter, to explain what and how and why I have loved.

But every time I have sat at this computer I have been filled with self doubt and self pity and self loathing and I have stopped myself. I have been scared of who might be reading and who might not be reading. I have been unsure of what I wanted to share, of what would be better kept private, of what might be misunderstood.

I have let my voice be silent.