I haven’t written anything here for two years.
This suggests that I’ve gone inactive or simply disappeared, but all that has really happened is that I’ve moved my writing onto paper with a fountain pen instead of a keyboard.
The great joy of that way of writing is that no one is ever likely to see it. And that’s the real reason why I’ve not been here. After several years of writing where people (albeit a very limited number of people) have seen my writing, to be able to write freely has been very liberating. For to write for an audience is never to write freely.
So, three plus years of notebook journaling and over the past six months something of a plague journal too. When Covid-19 is finally under some sort of real control, I’ll go back to those writings. Maybe some will seem suited to putting up again on a public forum. Or maybe not.
Meanwhile, my life of retirement spins on in a serene way, largely removed from the very real troubles that afflict many other people. I can feel very fortunate about this and I do.
These days, I cycle to Forest Park in St. Louis, find a quiet table outside the Visitors Center (easy to find when the cafe is closed), sip some homemade coffee and write in some lovely colored ink in my journal. While the sun moves across the sky and the flowers bloom all around me.
I spent an entire lifetime getting to this point. It was worth it.