Sometimes the image of a practice skews the real theme of our lives. What we see ourselves doing with life is only a familiar picture, a proximity replacement for what doesn’t exist or what we do not know.
This time, the practice for me was writing. As it is familiar, I am not, and this fact is becoming clear. Maybe writing is part, a vehicle, a tool, but it is surely not the whole.
I see it all like that singer that nobody has the heart to tell they can’t sing… but it could be that music is an important card in their deck.
This blog will either change in structure, or disappear altogether, with very little notice. But it’s all good, and I’m not crying in a beer, or looking for any response. It is what it is, and I’m looking for it.