These past few years have been a wary blur, but with myopic vision comes a clarity within that radiates like sunlight ripping across open water. It glides, glistens, and just as fast as you catch it, with a new cloud treading across the wind-blown sky, that clarity evaporates into nothingness. And then, curiously, you see it again in a new shape, somewhat similar but also quite unique in itself. Clarity does that to you sometimes.
This year especially has been a lot like that. 2021 saw the growth of my writing services and clients' interest in my writing process as a whole, which in turn made me realize that a lot of my writing is intuition based. A clarity from within. A voice that beckons truth and storytelling, a poetic turn of phrase and a hard-won rendering of what is rather than what should be.
2021 also brought the deepest acts of kindness that I will never forget. A longtime customer kindly and without a need for reciprocation sending a gift; a thoughtful-soul musician offering the magical gift of song for my child; loved ones stepping up without judgment in times needed; the most honest reviews of my work (good and bad...); words of encouragement in moments where I lose my field of vision.
* * *
It glides, glistens, and just as fast as you catch it, it curiously takes on a new shape, borrows a new hat, but is quite evidently still itself. Clarity. Following my intuition, that inner guide. Rooting, unfolding, bellowing from the cavernous spaces in between the real and the unreal, it grows, this myopia, into something quite magical in itself.
(Dedicated to bell hooks and Joan Didion)