Of Blogs, The Umbilical Cord, and the Internet…,

Connecting with the godhead, that part of the divine that lives within all, the Imago Dei, coalesces the disparate parts of the soul, mind and brokenness of heart and spirit.

Writing or revising and editing the crisis, and climax of a story, or novel can, and often dispenses healing to the writer whose words later transmit this to the reader.

The writer undergoes a trial or test of sorts each time she or he sets out to craft a work.

Whether the project is a blog of 500 words, a short story of 5000 words or less or a novel reaching beyond 50,000 words, a battle awaits the literary artist.

Each time we write we wage war with those fragmented parts of ourselves, those aspects of personality and soul torn asunder through and by way of the human experience of life and living.

To enter human existence demands we undergo disintegration, a separation. We leave the womb. The doctor cuts the umbilical cord. We cry.

And yet without this separation, no individuation, that long process of coming to know one’s self, could take place.

It is against the noise, and tribulations of life we recognize the music of our hearts, and come to know ourselves.

Conflicts and obstacles encountered on the road of life provide the canvas against which we writers paint the mosaic of words that form our stories.

Each story we craft lies centered in a conflict we wish to resolve, the resolution of which ushers forth yet another question demanding attention and answer.

And so we write–from crisis to climax, one novel providing a crisis to which we evidence our transformation in having written it when crafting a subsequent story that serves us the transubstantiation of climax.

Following the challenge of crafting our novel the writer then offers her or his creation to the world as sacrifice for being allowed to provide this gift, or opportunity to undergo transformation and growth through the experience of drafting then revising and refining a story, novel or collection of stories.

The writing of each story or novel presents a crisis, a moment of fear and doubt. Fear abounds no matter how many times we have written and completed a work, having given the utmost of our personal best.

This fear stands rooted in the doubt of our ability to survive the experience of filling the blank page, transforming it from an empty womb, to one that holds the gifts of life, grace and hope.

We offer our writing to the community of the world by way of the printed books or the Internet.

The latter takes far and wide that which rises from the imagination of our minds.

How beautiful and yet how scary?

We face this each time we write.

And in meeting the challenge we live, and die, only to be reborn upon the page or computer screen now filled with our words, the emanations, sometimes the moanings and groanings of our heart, that upon release liberate us as well.