Thank you, dear writer

You don’t know me, but I’ve been reading your work.

I stumbled across your blog looking for local writing groups.  Your photo piqued my interest, taken in sepia tones, your face lit from the left side, partially casting the right side in shadows, no smile on your face.  Now that’s the face of a serious wordsmith.

I thought you looked as if you wrote of crime dramas, or political thrillers, or perhaps, ventured into the science fiction realm.  It seems to me there is no end of these types of fiction out there.

Imagine my surprise when I peek at a random post and I read about a heart broken, about love and infatuation and the passionate exchange of ideas and desires and dancing on the precipice of madness.   And as my tears fall, I remember a heart once hopeful and pure whose innocent dreams came collapsing down around me, and for once, I don’t feel ashamed and foolish.

You didn’t look like the sort of fellow that would fall so desperately, irrationally in love with your Muse, who fed your intellectual cravings while inflaming your desires for endless moments of ethereal bliss before casting you aside. And you, a courageous, open soul that held the white-hot embrace of an incandescent heavenly body who lifted you higher and higher until your skin was scorched by the sun, lived to tell the tale.

She, who shared your bed and your innermost heart, is still honored and immortalized through your writing as perfection even as the reality of your experience had proved otherwise.

I’ve wondered…has she read your heart’s outpouring of love for her?  Had she cared?

You have no idea how your writing speaks to me, and perhaps to all those lovers who have loved someone deeply, regardless of the consequences.  Your sharing with the world your experience (whether real or only fictional) touched me with its poignant and sensitive handling of the painful loss of a friend, lover and kindred spirit, who not only intimately touched your body, but your mind and soul as well.

I get it.  All too well, I get it.

The heart knows not why it loves who it loves.  It just does.  And in the best of all scenarios, it loves without restraint, without hesitancy, without consideration for all that is socially and morally appropriate.

It doesn’t ask for much, just to be loved in kind with a similar unabashed energy and undisturbed flow.

Sometimes this kind of ethereal love isn’t meant to last a lifetime.  Sometimes, this love is too hampered by other human emotions…jealousy and pettiness and misunderstandings and anger born out of one single emotion – simple in nature, yet complex in it’s multifaceted manifestions.

That underlying emotion is fear.

Real love can not exist in the presence of fear.  It gets eroded away, bit by bit, as a salt crystal eventually dissolves in water.

Real love takes courage.

Real love takes courage because not only are you asked to stand physically naked before each other, you are asked stand emotionally naked before each other, willing to expose your weaknesses as well as your strengths.   Willing to admit you have petty, limited feelings and struggles as well as noble ones.

I don’t know why we can’t see this clearly while in relationships.  This kind of awareness often comes only after heartbreak, and perhaps only for a brief window, before the next relationship comes and you forget the lessons you learned.

I am comforted by your words.  I am comforted to know there is profound beauty to be found in the memory of the relationship.  I am comforted to know that someone else out there loved that deeply…and still found a way to celebrate and honor the memory of that love.

Thank you, dear writer, thank you.

My husband recently told me this song spoke to him.   It speaks to me too, to our ever-evolving relationship and our growing closer through some of our trials.  It’s what I’m talking about…courage in the presence of fear.  Speak the truth, and real love stands fast.

Can you lie next to her
And give her your heart, your heart
As well as your body
And can you lie next to her
And confess your love, your love
As well as your folly
And can you kneel before the king
And say I’m clean, I’m clean

But tell me now, where was my fault
In loving you with my whole heart
Oh tell me now, where was my fault
In loving you with my whole heart

A white blank page and a swelling rage, rage
You did not think when you sent me to the brink, the brink
You desired my attention but denied my affections, my affections


Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life
Lead me to the truth and I will follow you with my whole life


About Casey

“the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes ‘Awww!’ ~ Jack Kerouac, On The Road Again
This entry was posted in Gratitude, Love, Madness. Bookmark the permalink.

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