Sitting blankly, pondering what to write in this postcard. Nothing worthwhile comes at first. Like a plant remaining dormant until the warm water and fertilizer make their way through all the capillaries and begin to settle in each cell, the bud of a thought begins to form. I shall share part of my story in his postcard.
Do you remember that brief story I shared a few years ago about Roy? Just as Roy had a story, we all have a story. Stories belong to everyone, the person who feels they are ‘ordinary’ or ‘don’t matter’; the homeless person on the street; or the most reviled of politicians. As David Isay says, “ … every single life matters equally and infinitely.” I’m sure we could all surprise one another with snippets of our backstory. So in the postcard I’m about to write to Arthur Black (a Canadian humourist, radio personality, and writer) I’ll share a postcard-size snippet of my backstory — the good stuff.
“We navigate by our stories and are steered by them. They counsel us, caution us, can break yet also make us. They hearten us, humble us, heal us. They are in our blood, our bones and our beliefs. They are the fires we light against the dark.” — Annie Cholewa.
The week has not been as productive in some ways as it could have been. The grief over losing the dogs still hangs over me like a wet blanket refusing to dry and remove itself. Oh I flap my arms at it, tug and shove it away, but it keeps returning wet, clingy, and heavy. Perhaps that’s why my knitting has come to a standstill this week. And why I’m glad we aren’t doing any entertaining this week or next. So that’s a peek in the window of my story this week. Feeling weighed down but constantly pushing to stand tall and free.
“After nourishment, shelter and companionship, stories are the thing we need most in the world.” –Phillip Pullman
The rest of this week’s story: The spring birds have been arriving, including the famous Brandt Geese. Flowering in our yard this week are the white crocus, snowdrops, hellebores, heathers, and a few of the primulas. That’s what I love about life — we’re surround by a vitality of life and growth. We simply have to stop, look, and be grateful. For what are you grateful this week?
I’ve always liked Joan Didion’s, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” I’m not sure that her meaning is how I like to interpret it or even if I totally understand her meaning. One of my professors back in college used it a lot.
I’m so happy I now get email notifications for your blog updates. I love visiting here. :). We have our annual spring break visit to Vancouver Island booked. I cannot wait–your beautiful writing and photography always reminds me of everything I love about the island.
I am so sorry that it’s not been a good week for you, Diane, and I do so understand how your heart feels, losing your furry friends. All I can say is, it takes time, and you have to give yourself that time.
Sending you hugs, my friend. xo.
spent some time catching up in your space…..love the mitts!!! and love the idea of turning photographs into postcards…not sure why notecards have happened and never postcards. You certainly have a knack of telling stories through your photographs—-for me, the element of a truly wonderful photographer. Love Annie’s quote….hoping she comes back to blogland soon!!!
Yes, I’ve always thought of stories as a torch. On nights when the electricity was out and we couldn’t read,ah! that’s when the story-magic came into its own…