My secret favorite section of the literary mag The Sun is the "contributors" page. When The Sun arrives in the mail, I soak in the cover photograph and then I turn the cover. I read ever tiny bio, absorbing the details of the artists’ lives. For example, about Michael Chitwood: "The wisteria that he transplanted from his grandmother's yard has bloomed only once since he's had it - in the spring following her death five years ago." Or Krista Bremer, who "lulls their two children to sleep by singing old Arabic folk songs." After I read an article, story, or poem, such as “The First Noble Truth” by Steve Kowit, I go back and read the bio. By the way, his teaching guide is in its twelfth printing and his most recent poetry collection is The Dumbbell Nebula. Why is this my favorite section?
Now I have my own contributors, and they are you.
When “My heart is an egg” came into my head, I buzzed over to a piece of paper and jotted it down, and then I thought, “hmmm, wonder what would happen if I put this on the blog.” Yet in my heart of hearts I must secretly have expected to read “this is the stupidest thing I ever read” or “get a grip.”
Instead, there is a wonderful coterie of comments that are affirming, insightful, and just downright fun to read. Vince, thank you for commenting: I think your egg is a beautiful metaphor for the openness to experience so necessary for growth. And how it flows in your veins, why you must write. Theresa points me to the “creation myth.”
I like how a previous entry, “In the event of fire” became a blog topic for Erin and Vicky, as if we’re making some kind of connection.
You are the favorite part of my blog. Let’s party, my place, two weeks from now. I’m leaving for a conference shortly, will be forced to explore the Finger Lakes region for a few days, and will come back rejuvenated with a clear mind and heart. Or so I hope. I am on the brink of…something. I'll be off-line for a while. Please bring party hats and balloons.