Thursday, December 31, 2009
A Better Way
As I look back on the year now ending, I’m amazed by how many wonderful people I’ve met without leaving my desk. Readers, writers, artists, poets, thinkers, teachers, and curious others from all walks of life have immeasurably enriched the passing days.
I thank each and every one of you who are linked in my “Reading Room” and who have linked here, as well as those who have expressed your thoughts in the comment section, be it once or dozens of times. I’m inspired by your talent, energy, and insight, your willingness and need to share.
I’m also grateful to those of you who come and go and return in silence, because in so doing you allow me to imagine your lives and wonder what it is that we might have in common — more, I’m sure, than we realize.
To those who have signed on as “Followers,” thank you once again for jeopardizing your reputation. Somehow, it doesn’t hurt as much when you know we’re in this mess together.
My thanks to those who have exchanged books with me, and who have surprised me by sending yours as gifts. I treasure them all, and keep them here in the room where I write.
I still can’t get over the kind reviews that have been written about The Painting of You, the positive comments about it, and the other blog posts notifying readers of the book’s existence. It makes its subject matter easier for me to bear.
To those of you who have purchased my books, thank you for your demonstration of faith and practicality.
To those who find something of interest or value here and in my main website, you have my gratitude. Writing communicates nothing unless it’s read.
There was a story once. Perhaps I should tell it. It’s about a world in which the inhabitants placed the concerns of others before their own. Their last war had come and gone, and there were none to take its place. Each child was a welcome addition, and was encouraged to dream. The elders were revered. No one died: when their bodies were no longer needed, their unencumbered spirits entered the hearts of those they loved, and who loved them, and dwelt there until, at just the right moment, they returned as light in a newborn’s eyes. It’s about a world that is here now, if we really want it — if we are not so enamored of reality that we cannot imagine a better way.
Recently Linked: Speaking of followers, Brent, another fan of the Norton Anthology of English Literature, is the newest crew member aboard this sinking ship of words. Thanks, Brent.
My thanks, too, to Aleksandra for posting a link to my “silent sequence of drawings,” That Which Is Left Unsaid, on her blog New Times Arrived.
In the Forum: a curious quest involving Chinese food.