What's with the damn near miraculous fact that I am still here, that I have an amazing abundance of love in my life, that, with all that nearly sixty years has shown me, I get glimpses that it's all what, and how, it's supposed to be.
If lessons are 'God's kisses' then Spirit surely has loved me, nearly to death. But somehow I keep coming out on the other side of it all. So, aren't I supposed to do something with it all? Share it with others? Do SOMETHING?
Not sure - but I keep getting opportunities to share experiences - mine and others. Writing is part of that. But sometimes it feels like navel gazing.
The thing is that we all need witnesses to our lives, our experiences, our selves. We need mirrors, to be able to see who we are. We need someone(s) to listen, to look, to reach out from a place inside themselves, so we can hear, see, or reach out to ourselves. Like the song says "these stories don't mean anything, if you've got no one to tell them to."
So maybe that's what this will become, maybe it already is that - the place of companioning - the place of witnessing - of opening - the place from which the journey continues.
Let's see what happens.