Writing is like mining, digging into a bottomless reservoir of lost images, near fatal escapes,
grasping in the darkness and hoping to find a shovel full of valuable words. My goal remains steadfast in wanting to know how did I get to where I am, not just with the cancer thing, but everything, that is what I am really doing in these two blogs. It is an opportunity at self discovery and I find the task daunting. It is not all of anything, a little dark and a little light, roads trampled, roads built for sure, areas of fear, great bouts of laughter and silliness, places where I could have and areas where I didn't. I have explored and created, loved passionatly and cried.
The slow process of cancer and recuperation from its voodoo cures allows plenty of time for
reflection. How did I get from "A" to "B", from that point when I was an idealistic youth, churning out poetry as if I were making peanut butter sandwiches, travelling the world at the drop of a hat, to any other point along the way and to where I am now?
It is like finding a painting and knowing it is seven layers deep. I carefully chissel off a layer, discovering texture, color and design not seen, not understood. There are layers and layers to go. The way I remember it makes a disorganized story, jumping thoughts, dreams within dreams, but I know the end or at least the now.
I will continue this thought for while.