Writing is essential to me. It forces me to think, and that is a good thing. It brings up my past with a clarity that surprises me. I believe that it, and more importantly, Lenette are the primary reasons for my continuing existence. She is why I am still functioning as I am. Writing is the fruit of this tree.
In the process of seeking subjects to write an essay on, I must feel assured that I know what I am writing about. Writing as IF I know what I am writing about is not my style. I am too pragmatic (as I have always been) to propose or suggest thoughts I know little about or have no actual experience with. Even research and enjoyable reading has never been enough for me. Experience is vital to me as a mentor.
My stories, even where “serendipity” (what else?) enters the picture, are true as remembered. Lessons are often bold and sometimes hardly a suggestion, but lessons, nonetheless. So, my writing about power, leadership, dialogue, and relationships with children and adults is based on experience. I’m not one to quote as gospel, anything.
When I write about our animals, about us (as with our weird Mexico experience or the drunk and finding Camp Shasta), the impact the 3 Japanese Prisoners had on me, my family, and the depression, the people we have lived and worked with all are what I mean when I write “experience.” Add to this our Earth, where life, nations, and the environment plays their cards to our personal benefit or loss. Whoever first said, “we have no choice but to either play the cards dealt to us or give in,” certainly must have known the travails of life.
In the deepest part of me, I know we played our cards as dealt and did the best we could do with them.
Life is to be lived—Not run from or hide our heads—It is what it is.