March 28, 2009


There's nothing rational about it, this urge to be seen and heard. But in the logic of intuitive reaching, the clear call of what my heart needs to thrive, it's simple. So here it is.

I've always been a writer, in a far deeper way than I have always been an artist. Words were my first love, my first glimpse of power, my first understanding of how to shape an idea or an image. The containers for my writing have changed many times over the past thirty years. I've kept handwritten journals in bound books, lined and unlined, and in spiral notebooks. I've experimented with online journals and social networking and instant messaging. I've written literary email to close friends, sometimes epic in length, sometimes more like Imagist poetry.

And this is something different, at the same time that it is utterly the same thing.

Intention: To enjoy what is, and let go of the attachment to definitions.

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