Today, Parker Palmer posted a poem by Mary Oliver entitled, I Want to Write Something so Simply. Starting with those words she goes on to write about love in a way that one feels it, to write about life in a way that it speaks to those who read the words. It is in the act of writing, of creating, that we engage with one another. Our feelings, the emotions that are part of the human experience, drawing us closer together as each one seeks to find their place in this world.  Unfortunately, the emotions we see being displayed daily are not about drawing us closer but rather about driving us further apart. Rhetoric that seeks only to diminish another rather than build unity has taken over the public discourse. “I Want to Write Something so Simply”, to share the beauty that lies within, to shine a light upon the darkness and to expose the ugliness that rots our inner lives. My story, our stories, all have those moments of deep love and deep despair. Our shared lives lived out in communion, recognizing that each of us are frail, that just underneath the bluster and harshness there lies a child sitting on a cold kitchen floor, crying just to be heard. 

 My words written in a simple style, with no rhyme or reason, being sent out as small ripples against the tidal forces that rage against all we value. These words that express my hope and desire that love, that deep pure love of two souls, can overcome the chasm that divides. I am not a poet, I am not a great artist, I simply seek to write the story, plant its seeds into the soil of life and watch as the small green shoots begin to break forth and reach into the heavens. 

 The other day while out cycling, my mind was filled with words. I thought about my own healing not just the physical but also the emotional and spiritual. Overcoming the fears, seeking light in the midst of dark, seeking solace in the midst of despair. My personal journey is far from finished, the road is long and there will be those peaks and valleys that will impede my progress, yet I ever move forward. Mary Oliver continues her poem writing, “that even as you are reading, you feel it, and though it be my story, it will be common, though it be singular, it will be known to you.” It is in the reading and telling of our stories that we are drawn together, in these stories we see the commonalities rather than the differences, in these stories we hear the yearning for love and the warmth of a lovers touch. 


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