Sometimes it’s a silly notion to just speak out into the darkness, into the void before us.  Even if there are hundreds of people within earshot, it can seem like there is an emotionless vacuum in front of us.  Part of that stems from being connected to what is around us.  Part of that comes from the inevitable understanding that we need on some cellular level to find something in our world that resonates within us.  We all search for that.  In the middle of the night in Kenya over a decade ago, I found myself standing at the top of a cliff.  Not enough light to be able to see my own hand in front of my face, and yet I felt drawn to step out of the manyatta (residence) and walk several feet.  As if I could reach out into the star-filled night and brush my hand against the face of God himself.  After standing there for what seemed like hours, talking to the expanse in front of me, I felt so far down within my soul that I was whole for the first time in my life.  Then I turned around, and went back in to go to sleep.  The next day I found out that my footsteps in the dirt stopped about 8 inches away from falling down about 40 feet, which would have probably killed me outright.  With my eyes wide open and with the daylight shining, I tried to stand in my old footprints… and I failed to be able to get close enough to put my feet back where they were the night before.  Funny, I couldn’t see the impending danger, nor could I feel the void below my feet.  But I felt completely connected to what was around me, what enveloped me.  I felt completed and the experience was validated the next day.

 

Sometimes this whole blogging thing or at times in the past when I have scribbled poetry out because I couldn’t do anything else but write seems like screaming out into the void in front of me.  And sometimes I get very close to the edge in my life and writings and whatever.  But somewhere in the exercise of it all, I become whole and more complete.  That’s why I write.   That’s why I live.  What do you do, to be you?

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