Escape .......

"Writing is a form of therapy; sometimes I wonder how all those who do not write, compose or paint can manage to escape the madness, melancholia, the panic and fear which is inherent in the human situation." - Graham Greene

I know that you have a story, sometimes a secret story. Everyone has a story. Each of us tells the story in our own unique way. Talking, listening, gardening, silence, movies, painting, music, fiction, photography, writing and even reading help us to tell our story. Most often we tell the story only to ourselves, but we need to keep telling it. It keeps us from going mad - it is our escape - especially when we are in crisis mode.

Common ways to escape are through sound, graphics or the written word. Some folks have a special gift for speaking, singing or playing a musical instrument. They can enthrall us for hours. Elvis, Johnny Cash, The Mamas and the Papas, and the Everly Brothers are the entertainers I knew from my teenage years. I still love their sounds.

Others are great verbal story-tellers: Many comedians are pros at it. My favorites are Stuart McLean in Canada and Garrison Keillor in the USA. The cadence of their voices, their word choice and their humorous descriptions of everyday events keep me entertained for hours.

Others tell their story through visual art: painting, cartoons, photography or design. I appreciate them all.

I tell some of my story through the written word, often writing and rewriting dozens of times. Much of it, my readers never see. It ends up in the electronic trash bin or is saved for possible future resurrection. The same with your stories. I often don't see the real you, as you don't always see the real me. I reflected on that in a little poem in one chapter of my recent book, Conundra, The Golden Rule Revisited. Here it is:

My Earth Suit

Who am I?

I am not who people see.

They only see my Earth suit

whether it be white, black, brown or yellow.

They only see my outward self: my scars, my limp, my scruffy beard, my toothless grin, my tears, my ugliness.

They only see, judge and shun my crutch, my fault, my imperfection.

They don’t see me.

They only see my Earth suit, my outward self: my flawless skin, my flowing hair

my ruby lips, my radiant smile, my pearly teeth

my round, full breasts

my shapely legs, my beauty.

They only see my Earth suit, and gawk and leer and lust for me.

They don’t see me.

They don’t know me.

I am not who people see.

Who am I?

The bottom line is that I will keep writing whether I have readers or not. It is my therapy. And you will keep gardening, singing, listening, talking, reading, or whatever else you do that keeps you from going mad. It is your therapy and your escape.

I tell you this because, for a while, I will publish blogs only every second week. That does not mean I am not writing. I currently have two writing projects on the go. Whether or not they ever become published, only God knows. But I keep working on them. They are my therapy, my escape.

Besides, Cecilia tells me I have other things to do. She has a list.

Next blog is planned for Sunday, May 31.

Stay safe, my friends.

Gerald M. Sliva

Week 9 of Covid 19 crisis - May 17, 2020

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