This is my first blogging experience...and a singular experience it has been. It's way too much like talking to myself. I think that this is partly because there aren't very many readers leaving comments, but it's also just the medium. More than anything, I guess, it feels like talking to myself. And I'm fine with that. I do it all the time. But it's not altogether satisfying.
I miss the dialogue. I miss seeing the eyes of someone I'm sharing this with, the body postures, the breathing. All the things my senses require to actually close the circuit between you and me.
I'll have to say, though, it's also a bit like my experience of writing poems. Poems generally come to me in a way that feels like a gift...from the muse, from some deeper/broader/more complete awareness than is my usual. I generally get to savor the poem after (and during, but that's different). Even then, though, after the poem has been given, my greatest yearning is to read it out loud, and then to read it out loud to someone else. It is the spell of the sensuous. (My deepest gratitude to David Abram for having written this book. No finer book have I ever read.)
Feel the freedom of sharing your thoughts with me and with the others who might read them here.
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