These Writings

These writings are not what I thought they would be.

As the writings evolve, so does my thoughts and perspective. They feed on one another. I feed on them.

My life is disclosed in large swaths. Like an Impressionistic painting viewed at a distance without the distraction of small paint strokes, I incorporate the red and see the solid green field. The specifics inform the whole.

I sink slowly into thoughts. I see the myth arc unfold of a woman who sits on the crest of a giant wave that has been building for decades. A woman just like me. A woman who is me.

A single voice emerges to give the synopsis, distillation and generalization of a life. The voice has power and healing to me. The voice whispers that it is me.

I surface as if giving birth, although to what I am not yet sure. Am I the one giving birth or being born? Perhaps I am both.

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2 thoughts on “These Writings

  1. Through your writings I can see the soul of a kind and sensitive spirit. In almost each piece I make connections to something in me. I thank you for this for you bring fuller understanding to stray thoughts I may have. I knew you as a potter and had some knowledge of you as the scientist and friend. You are allot deeper, complicated and whole than you acknowledge. I can see that you are still searching for the why. I know the why has caused pain over the years but maybe that is your greatest asset. Maybe your brilliance wouldn’t shine as brightly without the burn. You have become the color that comes from deep within that insures humanity that they can be more that anyone would ever have expected.

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    1. Thank you for this, Ronnie. This comment is special to me, particularly coming from someone with whom I spent so many hours many years ago.

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