“Do not seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.” — Ranier Maria Rilke
A year ago today, I penciled this question across the lines of my journal:
“Can I bring everyday life in one of Oklahoma City’s oldest neighborhoods to life?”
Sitting in the shadows of the question was a prayer: “God …be with me.”
Questions and prayers are sparks of faith. They light the way out of darkness. We would not bother to speak them if no one were there to listen.
Writing for this blog is an exercise of faith. When God is in it, the writing breathes. It grows, it flows and transforms before my very eyes. Words and thoughts I had no intention of writing are written. The direction changes in mid-sentence and answers come. A post is finished and I wonder at my role in it.
In writing, I come closest to experiencing God. Perhaps if I were a better writer, I might exercise more control and rely less on faith. Yet this approach doesn’t seem to work for me.
This blog, that was created a year ago today, was empty of posts for twenty-five days. On day twenty-six, in publishing my first post, I learned I must write out of poverty and empty hands. Only then will answers have space to grow.
I have found answered questions to be as life-giving as answered prayers. In writing my everyday life, they are one and the same.
It took a while, but I found it – my first comment here. April 15.
I’m so glad you began, and so glad you’re still here.
Happy New (blogging) Year!
Thanks. It’s so good to be here.
Had I know you were looking, I could have saved you some hunting time. I remember exactly when you dropped in on my front porch because I wasn’t home! I was in Eureka Springs spending time with my husband before he ventured off to the Far East for far too long — in my opinion, of course.
You were getting ready to travel to Blue’s Country for some refreshment, but had taken time out to see who had linked to your blog.
It’s funny that my short blog roll has continued to change — some before you are now gone — some after you are now gone — but you, my friend, are still there. As you will remain. I may not always comment, but I never fail to visit your posts, often more than once.
Happy New Year to you — I look forward to your next words.