The silent plea of every writer who puts words to page, whether in ink or pixels. Read me…
I wasn’t going to write, or, rather, I intended to write something else, then found myself distracted by the idea put forth that all of us here, write to be read. Yes, to an extent we write for ourselves, whether for entertainment, release, self-expression, or profit, but the thing we all have in common is our reliance on (and debtitude to) our audience. I recognise there’s a ‘season for everything’, and perhaps blogging is one of those things, or, rather, my audience seems somewhat seasonal.
There are those who have been here almost since the beginning, and to those I owe the biggest debtitude (which, by the way, is a combination of ‘indebted’ and ‘gratitude’, and it’s not my invention, but I rather love it). There are those who find me afresh, having stumbled across me in some unexpected corner of the Blogosphere, and having turned up, like what they see, and stay a while.
Then there are those who are stalwart for a while; faithful readers of, and interacters with, whichever latest missive I’ve just published, and then like summer rivers, dwindle, wane, and disappear into the cracks of their own lives, their own circumstances, and whichever other priorities have overtaken the space I used to occupy.
Occasionally there are people who pop up unexpectedly, like fresh, eager shoots through late snowfall, to return to something I wrote a long time ago, and give it their full attention, delighting me (as more often than not, I take the time to re-read the piece, and wonder at what on earth I was thinking at the time, marvelling at my own creativity, whininess, inspiration, or gaucheness), and encouraging me to hope that unlike the seashells lifted to your ear, the space I once occupied is still breathing, gently, and the repeating wash and retreat of the ocean-sum of previous words, is not, after all, an illusion.
We have so much to say. We have said so much already, and our brains are constantly churning out new thoughts, making new connections, posing new questions, and seeking meaning. Each post we publish is honed and polished, coloured with our views, filled with unique perspective and bold lines of determined intention. Each piece we hang on the wall of our corner of the Blogosphere, and display as best we can, drawing attention to the bright colours and contours of our minds’ work, trying to engage without enraging, our exterior nonchalant, our heart crying “Read me…”
We, who write, are the Picassos of the page, the Vermeers of verse, and each time we hit ‘publish’, we paint our thoughts in text for all to see. A thousand words or not, our creations give insight, offer moments of entertainment, and the chance to dance with the thoughts of someone else’s mind, to take a peek through the keyhole into their world.
From the exquisite to the absurd, from the excruciating to the celebratory, all manner and matter of human life can be found here, waiting in stasis, its story kinetic and raring to jump from the page into the imagination of the reader, and start unfolding, delighted at the attention.
Each person who interacts, comments, shares, offers feedback, takes time to demonstrate some form of engagement with whatever bundle of thoughts I’ve most recently packaged up with a beautiful, Pinnable image, and sent out into the world, is sanctifying my writing with their attention. Back through the wires comes the evidence of their focus, a shout or a conversation or a whisper, which soothes the plaintive voice, pouring into its keening soul the balm of their affirmation – I read you.
And so, to you who read, a tribute (written, to be choreographed between us – my imagination to yours – as though we were standing face to face, eyes locked, thoughts dancing back and forth across the connection shared by just us, in this moment, RightNow), for without you, my words, however carefully crafted, are naught.
The air is charged, and the deeper we walk into the woods, the more insistent the sense of energy in the air. Sunlight dapples our path with flecks of gold amongst translucencies of bright-through-green. The shadows deepen, thicken, hold more portent, the closer we get. Arriving at a small clearing, the very hair on the backs of our necks and arms is standing to attention, spellbound with pore-deep knowledge that Something is Here.
We slow as our path gives way to soft moss, inviting us to remove our shoes and allow our feet to sink into the cool, dew-sparkled floor. A sudden trill of notes rings out from a nearby tree – an exotic bird, leaving its song hanging in mid-air, shivering with beauty – making us jump, then laugh, releasing the tension.
The mossy floor begins to feel as though it has something beneath it. The soles of our feet, perhaps blessed with extra perception we could never hope to achieve just by paying attention, tell us we’re standing on something ancient, something vital. Patterns emerge in the floor as moss gives way to stone, carved and marked in beauteous ways we marvel at, but may never understand. Eager toes pull us forward towards the centre, and we sense approval, encouragement of whatever is here, urging us onwards. We don’t even notice the moment we reach for one another, connect, hold hands, and tiptoe, reverently.
In the middle of the carved stone, low, unclear, and shimmering, some kind of orb, set into the ground, draws our attention. We kneel before it, slowly inching closer as kaleidoscope rainbows swirl, iridescent, across its surface. Here is the centre. Here is the secret of the World Between the Wires.
Breathless, we exchange glances and get closer, noses almost pressing with excitement, as we see the answer therein – our own faces, staring back at us, our eyes and hearts and minds networked to each other, and everyone else who wrote, or read, or engaged, in a filigree of connection as beautiful as the most complex structures of nature. Thus reflected, we see our place within our worlds, separate, wonderous, yet irrevocably bound.
It is revealed, in light, in beauty, in words, and in ourselves – we matter; we choose each other; and we are always stronger together.
Thank you, always, for reading ❤