I haven’t felt like writing for several days, and so I didn’t write.  To just let that be is difficult for me.  What if in the next year I only blog once a week?  I struggle not to label that as “bad”.

In my worst moments, I visualize having nothing to say for the rest of my life.  But I know me … that simply is not true.  Something out in the world will get my attention and then I’ll find a way to relate it to my life.  So there.


I was driving in St. Thomas yesterday when I noticed a little black object way up high straight ahead of me.  A squirrel was scampering along the power line that stretched across the road.  Then he stopped, apparently eating something.  In a flash I was under him and gone, but he has stayed with me.

Mr. Squirrel was so calm up there.  Just dipsydoodling his way above the madding crowd.  I imagined myself on a rope, suspended above the gorge near Niagara Falls, holding on to my long pole for dear life.  Absolute terror!  Now it’s true that I don’t have the skill, and that I could possibly develop it, but to perform such a feat with my new friend’s ease?  Impossible.

What if I could hum my way through some activity that many people would find hugely difficult?  Do I do anything like that?  Well … now that you mention it … I’m writing this blog post.  Some folks, in contemplating the creation of words that will later fly off into cyberspace, would feel the same terror.  And although I’ve been in a scribing lull lately, when I do sit down with my laptop, I trust that I’ll have something to say, that the words will come.  Such as right now.  This paragraph is over.  I don’t know what the next one will be about.  And that’s okay.

“Celebrate, Bruce, that you can write with ease.  It’s all right if the quality is not so good on a certain day.  There’ll be plenty of really good posts.  Just let those fingers do the walking.”  And so I will.

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