Ongoing Stories of My Soul

Look over my shoulder as I ponder life.

The Story has a Soul and the Soul has a Story…

Sometimes this keyboard is not my friend. Not because I create some technological anomaly, which I do, from time to time….but because I sit here and realize that I owe you all a story. Why? Because you are spending your precious minutes “looking over  my shoulder while I ponder life.” It is such an honor to read your comments, see the stats on ‘page views’ in a day, or see how you post my blog on your FB page. Wow. In a writer’s world, this is huge!

My objective in this blog is to look at life and record the journey. Sometimes I do so through the perspective of a mother, teacher, pet owner, woman, citizen, car owner, fashion flunky, grandmother, on and on it goes. You know how many hats you wear in a day: I try to unravel the moments under these various hats in words to make you smile, wonder, or escape.

Often times, I feel like my life’s microscope is all rickety and the lens is steamed up and fuzzy. Or, that how I translate it is like a nine year old learning pig latin. Or a nine year old pig learning latin. Yet you bear with me and encourage me to face the keyboard and jump on each letter until some kind of drivel arrives on the screen. I have to admit…some days it is hard. Not because my life is so complicated and dark, but the balance between being entertaining and authentic is kind of like driving on the shoulder. You know it is not a real lane, but getting from point A to point B is just too hard in the fast lane. There are days I want to park the car and just start walking in any direction the feet can take me….leave all the responsibilities behind. Sounds exotic, rebellious, freeing. And then you see roadkill. That little ole’ opossum who tried to waddle across the road one too many times. BAM! It becomes lunch for the crows. Now…isn’t that imagery just lovely?

My point is this. I live and write down what happens. You live and read what I wrote down and then we connect. Perhaps you laugh, sigh, or grimace at the string of sentences I throw down here. But you affirm that somehow logging on to this tattle-tale blog is worth your precious minutes. What an honor.

Thank you for reading the “Ongoing Stories of My Soul.” Without you there would be no reason to ever sit in front of this laptop and stack my words. My students often ask me how I get the ideas for stories. I have to stop and ponder that question– as the answer changes. For today, writing is like a door. The door opens and closes and divides rooms. There is no real story in such an event.

The story occurs when anger slams the door and the emotion must be translated. Or when the finger gets smashed in the door and the pain is offloaded in paragraphs. Or when the door opens….and a world of opportunity lay at your feet. Sometimes, the door must be shut and locked forever….and in explaining this to your heart, the narrative unfolds. Today, writing is like a door. Tomorrow, who knows.

But a story has a soul. And a soul has a story; where one leaves off and the other begins is unknown. But suffice it to say, that your meeting me here at this spot gladdens this soul in ways you will never know. My niece gave me a silver box with a quote from Ernest Hemingway which says:

“The writer must write what he has to say. Not speak it.”

Which means nothing until you, the reader, comes along and breathes life into it. My, what a gift. This writer is honored.

Thank you.