The difficult thing about writing is exposing your innermost thoughts to the world. It invites criticism and criticism, ever ready, comes.

The part that gets hurt is the part that’s most sensitive to pain, like exposing a fresh wound to the open air.

But in the end, if you don’t do this then what’s the point of writing at all.

These inner thoughts are a partial view into a lifelong conversation. Any small bit of it will be taken out of context. That means people will misunderstand. It can’t be helped.

Trust

The thing that I have to do is to trust you. I must trust that some part of the truth in me will ring sympathetically with the truth in you. That together we will have some harmony in the dissonance.

I must trust you to forgive the fact that the words fall short of the greater meaning of life. They sound pretentious, as if I’m trying to make more of my life than there is.

But the truth is that life is so unspeakably glorious, so jaw-droppingly staggering, that no words can ever hope to express it. Much less mine.

Pieces

I tell you this not to make excuses, but to ask your indulgence, to beg your patience. I’m trying to be brave enough to write incomplete thoughts and trust you to hang around long enough for the thoughts to be finished.

My tendency to want to express it all, whole and complete, lends itself more to books or encyclopedias than blogs. This is why I currently have 105 drafts written but unpublished. Pieces of the whole.

Less

So, here’s my plan: to write more by writing less.

I will not let the fact that I can’t express it all right now stop me from expressing it at all.

I will write more but fragments and scattered thoughts will be presented. Unfinished lessons will be taught. Works in progress will progress.

I can only hope that you keep reading until it becomes clear what a magnificent life we lead.

. . . being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. ~ Phil 1:6

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