Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Heavy thoughts bring on physical maladies; when the soul is oppressed so is the body. ~Martin Luther.


 I have  to  learn to turn aside worry; I greet it as a familiar friend.  I should slam the door on it, every single time.  But I let it in and I feed it. 

Yep, I worry myself sick.  No denying that I was taking moral inventory today and worrying needlessly, yet again.  

I worry I've offended someone with a meant to be funny comment. Or an honest one, delivered from my heart.   Will you still be my friend if I am honest with you?



I worry my husband will get killed in a car wreck like my father did.  If he's coming home late.. I have been known to pace and wring my hands.  This is one I have beaten down and subdued


I worry my son will take his life like he tried before.   This one I have to work hard on not to even let it out into reality.  Sometimes I have to ask him.  "Are you safe?  Have you made a plan? " And I have to accept his answers as truthful...


Our house is in foreclosure.  I don't give a pig's ears worth of worry to that.    When you have a son who is depressed and really at risk, it sets the bar high for what it takes to worry.


I worry that this crappy writing will be taken as my best effort!  hahaha

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