But I have to recommend another blogger to you. Have to. Because every time I check in with her she’s drawn another great piece of art.
Her name is Sharon Mann and she the creator of Make Art…Magic Happens. I enjoy her art because I just enjoy her art. Every day is an attempt at something new. Sharon seems to enjoy her art, and it shows.
I also love her blog because she is real, with real feelings. In Sharon’s “about” section I read she lost her husband and best friend about a year ago, and her art is her therapy. It’s almost like her creativity is an extension of her love and loss. Check her out.
I find this same mixing of fantasy and reality in my friend Ivor‘s blog at Ivor.Plumber/Poet. Ivor writes mostly poetry. I sometimes have a hard time reading his poetry, for there is pain there, tinged with hope. Ivor lost his wife and friend almost six years ago, and much of his words are about love and loss and pain.
There are others I follow who have similar stories to tell…stories of sadness, loss, of wandering and falling and getting up again. Some of the names escape me now, but it all swirls into one pool.
I sometimes wonder if all bloggers are like this. Their art, their poetry, their stories, so wonderful because of some loss in their life. I follow those with life-threatening illness, with degenerative eye disease. It’s funny, because I followed them first because I enjoyed their writing. Their point of view. Their pain is almost an after effect.
I am lucky. Except for the loss of my brother a few years ago, and my parents long ago, that kind of pain has not knocked at my door for some time. I know he’s there…she’s there…waiting for me to drop my guard so they can slap me with the cold reality of life and death and some unknown illness. I have to stand guard, for I know once it comes it will rip my heart out and leave such a big hole I will never recover.
For now I will revel in the work my blogging friends do, no matter what the cause. I have led a wonderful life so far…who knows what the future will bring. I put whatever I have in my writing, whether it’s pain or joy or contentment or sorrow. I will deal with the highs and lows of death and beyond in my next life.
I’m too busy being who I am in this one.