When Bob Cratchit attempts to steal into work the morning after Christmas, Scrooge accosts him with this welcome: “Late again, eh, Cratchit!” Of course, Bob is late, having spent Christmas Day devouring the prize goose with his family. Unbeknownst to Bob, Mr. Scrooge has had a Damascian moment and has chosen to announce it in a novel way.
I say this by way of attempting, yet again, to re-enter the world of blogging – not for you necessarily, but for me.
I have recently watched a healing process occur because someone took the time to write extensively about an experience that troubled him. The process gave him a new perspective and an ability to see on the page, a representation of what had happened to him from the position of an observer. Whenever we can observe ourselves (and I mean observe without judgment), a wealth of wisdom about a situation is possible, and healing begins.
Writing is powerful – reading is powerful. Shared words – even with oneself – are powerful medicine.
Ever casting about for a new way to re-encounter the Holy and Wholeness, I am a sheep in need of a pen (and I mean that in both ways).**
So, late, again, I return to the fold. I am likely to do so again, and again.
** the Goddess wishes to point out the knitting imagery in this sentence. Yes, she’s still with me.