Grief for the Untold Story
The grief of the untold story haunts the heart. Find your words and write them now, in cards and letters, journals and drop-dead boxes. The stories—the writing and the sharing—have healing power.
The grief of the untold story haunts the heart. Find your words and write them now, in cards and letters, journals and drop-dead boxes. The stories—the writing and the sharing—have healing power.
I’m not sure exactly how the solo day will play out nor if the people in my life will get on board, but I’ll try. I think at first I’ll be fidgety, like when I sit down to write and need fifteen minutes to settle in. But once I embrace the soloness, I expect transformative moments. Or at least, a nice break and some good rest.
If I can write deeply and meaningfully about the worst part of someone or about the stellar behavior of another, it’s because it’s in me, too. … It’s all of us.
Not sure what your jam is? Your intuition knows. Listen to your intuition, find your jam, and put your heart into it. Good advice for writers. Good advice for life.
As sunlight diminishes for the next 47 days, I hope you find the words, the moments with company, and enough light to hold you through the melancholy that comes, because, every November, melancholy comes.
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