June 18, 2001


  • Birth –


    The process of birth begins in a dark place between consciousness and sleep. Shadowy moments of connection lead to the growth of all things. The embryo of dream or of substance likewise comes from the casual joining to two previously unconnected parts.


    I have carried and nurtured in my body a human baby. I ate broccoli and cantaloupe and religiously avoided caffeine to promote the growth of that tiny well-loved flesh. I read books, followed instructions, and carefully prepared to receive the child into my life with all the necessary equipment and paraphernalia.


    The children of my intellect have not fared so well. The ideas and dreams of my soul, conceived in silence remain long hidden in the darkness. Slowly nourished or not at all. I push them away as low priorities in my busy life. I have at times rid myself of the embryonic dream, a terrible violence to avoid the pain and commitment of birthing and raising the dream to maturity. But unlike flesh, dreams are not once and forever aborted.


    I had the idea once that I SHOULD write. Words are floating around in my mind which beg to be connected on paper. Stories wait that can only be told in my voice. I bought notebooks, journals, and a computer with an up-to-date word processor. But instead of feeding my dream with daily exposure to the flow of ideas, I felt guilty for the time I spent reading. I knew enough to carefully protect my embryonic son, but I ruthlessly exposed my immature dreams to the ravages of criticism. I insisted on time for proper rest and exercise for my baby, but I went days on end without picking up the pen, or touching the keyboard.


    Today is a special day. It is the 38th anniversary of my own birth. 7 years ago today I labored and pushed and brought my son into the world – happy birthday, Michael, you are the loved treasure of my days. Today I birth a dream, a new identity. It has been a long time in the dark shadow, but today I claim through labor and sweat, the reality of the dream. A newborn writer stands blinking in the light.

Comments (4)

Comments are closed.

Post a Comment