Recently, I found some letters.
Written by hand.
A whole correspondence from across two continents, spanning seven years between my best friend and me. (I now have both sets.)
I uncovered them from deep storage and I'm in the process of carefully reading each one.
Finding these letters was an event. I expect they will find their way into my blog posts for quite some time.
This morning, as I set out to walk through the cold, crunchy fields near my home, I pondered this quote which I had copied into a letter in January of 1995:
Familiarity sometimes renders people physically invisible, for you find yourself talking to the heart -- to the essence . . . rather than to the face. ~Michael Welzenbach
I understand this quote is referring to when you are in someone's actual presence and you know the person so well they become physically invisible to you. You don't notice their "warts", so to speak.
But to me, the quote describes the way I used to feel about receiving letters from my dear friend, Jeni. We were forced apart physically through life circumstances, yet through our letters we drew closer than ever before.
And that is how I've come to feel about blogging. We sit behind our computer screens and we share what matters to us. Bit by bit we crack open the door of our souls and allow others to peer in.
I have always been more transparent in letters than I am able to be in person. (Maybe this is also why I often think of the writers of the classics as my personal friends.)
As I mentioned yesterday, I'm into making what I call "cyber-samplers" lately. Here's a new one for you --
Love to all,
p.s. Here's a song which so beautifully and poignantly describes my relationship with my Invisible God. It's a prayer called "Invisible Love". (Maybe it will speak to you too.)