Digging for Truth
She Will Not Be Quiet: A (mostly unedited) daily writing practice
Day #164 of (mostly unedited) daily writing/sharing
Digging for Truth
I can't write anything true enough. But God, how I ache for it, the truth. The truth— isn't it always changing? Or, at least some truths are always changing. Other truths, don't they stay? Truths like, everything is always changing. Like, death will come for all of us. Death of the body, anyway. The rest, well, I'm sure it lives on and on—in the form of raindrops, butterflies, in the form of a tiny seed that somehow manages to blossom into a pretty red poppy. And the dove who comes back again and again to my front lawn— I can't prove it, but I'm pretty sure she is a messenger, an angel in disguise. What else? Poets' words live on and on, find me now as I dig for truth, another nod that assures me that nothing fully dies. The poet's body is no longer here, but their words sit with me now in the shade of my favorite oak, the oak that was once a tiny acorn. And what was the acorn before it was an acorn?
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Day 9, Jill's Morning writes, excerpt: "Do all you can to explore this mecca! Don't let the fear part of your brain take over. You've much to do here, much living to do, and that is such a gift. Be here. August 1st. Well, hello, August 1st in London. Nice to meet you!
I can't write anything true enough. But God, how I ache for it...
I'm beginning to believe (and to be honest sometimes still resent!) that it is this ache that saves us, that propels us forward - searching in raindrops and poppies, always looking out for angels, scouring the lines of poets, digging in the dirt for acorns. Thank you, dear poet.