Why I'm Back

During the months when I was indulging myself on the original Wordsanctuary blog (the predecessor to this one), my lightning-fast fingers happily danced on the keyboard, and I also became fairly adept at borrowing pictures from the stunning collection of U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. Life and work intervened, and my blogging bent was abandoned. Then, in the wee hours of Christmas morning, wanting to chat with Santa as he stopped at our house, I instead became sucked back into cyberspace by inspiration as powerful as that little angular attachment on the vacuum cleaner. From out of the corners, the cobwebs. From out of exhaustion, rekindled hope. One minute, I'm weeping at my sink (having been overwrought at watching The Nutcracker and admiring the grace and art of the performers, but also remembering that I used to dance before my auto accident altered my range of motion and strength. Then I tried to express this to my son, which he took as self-pity, but that wasn't really the point. I was trying to express that art, music, dance, theater, writing, have always been important to me--and even if I have not achieved distinction, I have supported others who have certainly become adept in their craft. And in my life, too, have been people whose friendships kept me aloft in trying times. My cherished friend Brigitte (a Unitarian and a Sufi) died last year. I had written a tribute to her, hoping to publish the piece in UU World. I tried, and I respect the editors' right to say no. Months ago, I intended to post it to the original Wordsanctuary. Delays. A trip to England to pursue Holocaust memories. Family history searching. Loads of work. Debt. Disappointment. At the sink one set of thoughts led to another; I soon was wrung dry of tears, had filed away the dishes, and found myself in the deep end of the cyberspace pool (which is risky, as I don't swim much). My piece on Brigitte's impact on me is finally here in a new blog. A funny piece about my battles with technology has found its way here, too. No patience to try to market my zany humor or my deep thoughts at the moment. My fingers don't fly as fast; I've graded too much student writing to have precise syntax and fluent rhythms; my designs are in my head but not quite emerging perfectly. Perfect writing? No. But at least present.

Photo credit: U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service