The older I get the less independent I become. Or so it seems. I suppose there is a certain calm “passivity” or lack of panic that comes with age. It can allow a kind of slow incubation of ideas and projects to hold at arm’s length. What I’m learning however is that, when it comes to matters of song and art and poetry – the stuff that floats my boat, I’m very dependent on others. I need their insights, their opinions (whether they hurt or not), their support, their better words to supplement my often insipid, verbose ones and their companionship in the way of beauty. I need their stories. Without the foamy headwaters of my life crashing in ways both large and small into someone else’s life, what remains are the equatorial doldrums of lack luster porridgy existence uninteresting even to myself.
But I keep finding interesting people to read. Or maybe I’m just becoming that middle aged guy who now finds interesting what once was a yawn. There are many other people like myself who seek to compose the scattered detritus of their own narrative into some artful shape that sings out in humor, frustration, pain or boredom. I consider my friends the many others who have been sucked into this vast bloggy neighborhood. They may not even know I’m here. But I value what they have to say. I pray that some form of meaningful reciprocity comes their way through my own meager gleanings.
That’s it. That’s all I needed to say. Thank you, online word warriors, whoever you are. Keep the fire burnin’ as Kenny Loggins would say. And, as some other famous people once sang, “I’ll get by with a little help from my friends.” Most just happen to be virtual.
innerwoven 