why I write... [& why so silent]

Well... it's been a bit long since the last post.
I'm still taking photos.
...still writing [journaling as of late]
working up the nerve to do things. Someone I meet with has asked me to dust off my guitar & play... anything. I'm trying to get the nerve to [hopefully before summer's end]. My fear? last time this person asked me to do something... my poems began to be published. [which was shortly before this blog was born]

this post is several "trains of thought" I'm trying to carefully piece together. If it doesn't work... please be graceful.

I went to a picnic this last Sun. The Noll reunion. My father is one of eight. The only one who had only one child. I have approx. twenty cousins. My life has these odd opposites in it. Big extended family, small immediate one. You may be tempted to ask: "what was that like?". I don't know. I've never had the chance to go back & do it differently. I'm only living this once. Though, I think at some point, I'll try to write my life out... to see if God can help me believe all this happened. My life... really is a true story. Like Sting writes, I don't understand it [& won't till it's last chapter is written]. -oh, the song is "The Book Of My Life" from Sacred Love.

A week ago Friday [first Friday], I had a wonderful time. My wife went along. And we got to be young lovers all over again. We talked & walked the streets of Lancaster. Talking of things I never say [too fearful to share. I'll share a post on fear sometime]. Afterward she said she'd like to go again, especially to photo ones. She recently said I should enter some into the York Fair. Maybe... maybe.

As this coming Sun. is Father's day, I am praying for John. [you may remember me mentioning his loss of his son] John has a blog now. Vision Over Visibility. Someone wrote to his son on there as a comment. I'd like to, but feel it's a bit silly or weird of me to do so.
...I'd like to here, though.

Ben
I so wish
that things were different
but
as silly as what I say has to be
can we work something out?
how about we enjoy your mom & dad for you
and you can enjoy
my cousin Heather...
my grandparents...
[Pappy & Grandma always had room for one more at the table, anyway]
the uncle I never met [sadly, he didn't live here much longer than you did]
and if you'd like someone to play with
...my nephews are there
can you play with them
till I get there?
[the good news is... I'll get to say hello. And I'll never have to say good-bye, ever again.
for where you are, dear Ben, good-bye is obsolete.]
Till we meet,
B

Guess I should get around to the title of this thing, huh?
When I'm silent, it isn't always a bad thing. I've recently [over the past year] realized that I get depressed sometimes when I don't get enough sunlight. And for the past [I won't embarrass myself with stating how many] number of years I've said: "next year I need to spend more of my summer outside." ...welcome to "next year". Some people who are depressed are given Lithium as an anti-depressant. [Now I'm not saying that this is enough of a dose for them, but..] The rays of the Sun at sunrise & at sunset give off a small amount of natural lithium. And generally all of us need some sunlight. So this is partly why I'm not online as much lately. As well as projects that have been neglected. And this month has been so busy I need a tour shirt printed up with all that I'm doing [just so I remember what happened in June.] I'll try to give ...better clues sooner on my silences. Because yes, sometimes I withdraw because of something being wrong. Often, when this is the case, words don't seem to come [in any form]. I comfort myself in these times with Romans 8:26. In which Paul speaks of The Spirit praying for us in a sort of "private language" between Him & The Father. In the Message, Peterson puts it as The Spirit weaving our "wordless sighs & groans into prayers". God alone knows, just how powerfully I need that sometimes. I am comforted to know He hears my wordless anguish. A friend once said of a dark time in their life: "to feel Jesus is closer than your skin".

why do I write?
I write
what I wish I could say
to someone's face
tell them I'm glad
they want to see me

I write
it's sometimes
my way of crying
I cry
in keystrokes
I bleed with words

I've been doing this for so long now
I cannot "not do it"
I can not share it
but I cannot stop writing
I need it
it's the way my fingers breathe
it's my soul's way of proving
that it's alive.

Wow... this is long... & it's late.
Be safe,
and if the way is dark right now...
run
into His arms
the arms of light...