I've been nudged to write a book for years by college professors and colleagues, but I didn't tackle the task because I knew that my voice wouldn't sell in the marketplace of mendacity. It's a fact that I refuse to write fiction. I have no taste for it; I have no talent for it.
In my past I took spiritual direction from a priest who advised me on the obligation of enlightenment and chastised me on the selfishness of coveted contemplation without community communication. He taught me that ripened fruit isn’t worth the seed if it hangs from a limb above the lips of the languished. Lamps aren't the only objects one shouldn't hide under bushels. So, I listened; I believed him. I took myself to task.
In my present I met James Risser, MD. And although he wasn’t my physician, he encouraged me to share my story and to chronicle my struggles with diabetes. At first I honored his position yet I dismissed his encouragement. Then I began to see the degrees of his decency and I became aware of the depth of his humanity. And soon I shifted my allegiance from the diplomas on his wall and I began to honor the heart behind his coat. Dr. Risser’s approbation propelled me toward action. And that’s the key attribute of friendship. A friend sees the depth of your gifts regardless of your own hubric blindness. So although Jim didn’t shove a pencil into my hand, he did offer his hand in friendship. He seems to think I’ve a voice to be heard. I’ve come to realize his voice is formidable. So. I began a blog.
With the attention span of contemporary society, I see no need nor do I see a future in publishing. A blog needs no editor. It needs no publisher. It needn't be politically correct. It needn't be topical. It needn't be filed in a strict genre. It needn't be a chronicle of a personal life. It can ramble. It can educate. It can inform. It can incite. And frankly, it needs neither talent nor insight. Perfect. Sometimes it's nice just to coast.