stories

The poet knows himself only on the condition that things resound in him, and that in him, at a single awakening, they and he come forth together out of sleep.  ~ Jacques Maritain 

Sometime in May this year, I read a Mother's Day tribute written by Mr. Van der Leun posted on his blog, American Digest. There was something special about it ... my favorite Mother's Day thing this year. I remembered another of his ... something amusing about Levi jeans. What might google turn up I wondered ... turns out, bunches ... but for the time I had for it, just this one story on hypertext caught my eye ... and I read it, and it wasn't what I expected. Well, maybe it was ... I wanted, and found, an interesting well written story ... it was the mystical quality that sat me still. The story, The Arrival, is about a creative process (tap this post title for a link to the story). Reading the story actually did make everything around me quiet ... I could feel it, maybe I was holding my breathe, I don't know. Well, I wondered if this was just yodaesque writing skills, or if this was really a real true story. I ventured a note asking ... A note came back which said basically ... Yep, that's how it happened. The story. I was happy to know that it is a true story.

"How can I know what I think until I see what I say?" ~G VdL
And this
"I am always suspicious of things that travel "into the mystic." Especially so when it involves my own experience." ~G VdL

I was happy because somebody who seems pretty normal wrote about this kinda weird stuff. I read it on a day when I was not feeling all that great. And ... I had been noticing that my notes here were telling me a sort of a weird story ... Hmmm, by that I mean, I can see what I really think when I read what I wrote. I can see a story here of my struggles ... and my joys. I can see me. I stay so busy being some precious ones momma, or an okay neighbor ... or whoever is under the hats that keep on showing up on top of my head ... .
I see a process here that moving through my days kept me from noticing. Not a creative process like Mr. Van der Leun is describing, rather ... I'm a bit self-conscious to say, maybe a healing process, but more too ... I see my soul better. I see my soul trusting God, and I know the miracle that is for me. And I have barely caught my breathe on that, and already I see that trust is just the foundation for some deeper mystery.

I see someone who had some disabling oowies, unfolding towards a more well version of her true self. I see someone who stretched a hand out towards the God bigger then words in a book ... hoping that my tiny hand could feel his touch. I really really like things that I can see. Feeling is a wilder thing then I have been comfortable with ... but I am relaxing in to it. Floating in the deep waters ... not fretting so much that my feet can't touch. It feels good most of the time. I know what mean.

So ... I was captivated by the story of an invisible process.

And then ... OMG ... These words. I like that someone said ... Okay, I'm up for it ... Let's see where this goes ... And hauntingly powerful words came to hold the place of the missing.