Talking to the Divine

Talking to paper is talking to the divine. It is talking to an ear that will understand even the most difficult things. Paper is infinitely patient. It will receive small fragment after fragment of the large network you are working on, without yourself knowing it. It will wait for decades for you to put together the first traces of your own code, a code you might have understood as a small child, but which you are now gathering on a new level of understanding. The white paper is waiting. Each time you scratch on it, you trace part of yourself and thus part of the word, and thus part of the grammar of the universe. It is a huge language but each of us tracks his or her particular understanding of it. Nina Holzer, A Walk Between Heaven and Earth.

.

.

Most of us are on this path. I think about my twinkly twin Angela Recada picking up her paints and brushes and uncovering angels and textures that have been waiting for her all this time.

.

.

And Silke, who is so excited to know she is indeed an artist, whose women are so excited to be seen and heard.

.

.

And my friend Walking Man Mark and my beloved Human Being, whose poetry is so prolific and so beautifully honest and well crafted.

.

.

And Robin, who has just and finally started a blog of her own.

.

.

And Soulbrush, who was told her art was not good enough; Mim's Aunt Em, who you cannot look at without breaking into a hopeful grin; my dearest Lori, whose photographs light up the world she lives in and invite us along; the elegant Tessa who paints and writes under African skies; Caroline who paints those heavenbound watercolors; Marion and Baino and Annie and Linda and Ribbon and Deborah and Snowbrush and Marianne and the wonderful Lo, each whose colors and words sing on the page and whose joy breaks through the computer keys.

.

.

This weekend I met with four other women who are writing memoirs at the same time I am. We meet every six weeks after completing thirty pages at a time, after reading each other's thirty pages ready to help one another discover, uncover, honor the truth of transformation. We are blessed with an incredible writing instructor named Nancy Rose. She is teaching me how to write at a level that excites me to no end.

.

.

I have creative wonderful people all around me now. I don't know how it happened, but I can barely contain my giddiness. I know I am not alone in feeling this way, in thanking my lucky stars.

.

.

Congratulations to all of us. We are sharing with one another. And we are talking to the divine.

.

.

Love

kj