Saturday, October 16, 2010

Other People's Blogs

When I visit other people's blogs on my daily stroll through the blogosphere I am blown away—by people's art, by their lives, by who they know themselves to be and their unflinching honesty in setting that down.

Sometimes I am healed by their words, as I was this week by Maggie May's at Flux Capacitor, who wrote about the turbulence she was experiencing in her inner life, crying out for relief, and I read her words with awe and rising love at how authentically herself she managed to be, how brave, how vulnerable, how true. I lingered there, feeling a little selfish, too, because while I ached for Maggie and tried to beam her love and peace, I also rejoiced, because here, here, was my own inner world, so wildly, painstakingly described, and it was a relief, such a relief to know that others ride the same roller coaster I do, not that I wanted Maggie May to feel any pain, no, but she still healed me a little, just by writing her truth, and allowing me to say I see you, I know what you feel and it sucks, but it passes, and life for all its thousand sorrows is also replete with a thousand joys.

And then there is The Dishwasher's Tears. What darkness and art and light I found there in his often disturbing, often glorious meditation on creativity and human contradiction and abiding love. I venture gingerly into those waters, fascinated, afraid, compelled. He is a true artist. He is the kind of artist I fantasized about being when I was much, much younger, before I understood that to pursue art in that way would consume me in its fire, I wasn't built for it, I didn't have the skin. Not back then, anyway. Maybe tomorrow. But the Dishwasher, he dances in the fire and emerges, burned but somehow redeemed.

"How We Burn"
By the Tearful Dishwasher

And deb over at Talk at the Table, a wise mother soul, a poet with a tough-tender heart, watching over her five children, intimately and from afar, knowing the sinew of who they are, how they have grown, the push and the pull, the love, the love. I imagine her bathed in their light, aching sometimes at the things she understands, but pressing on, full of forgiveness and grace, fed by an expansive faith that encircles rather than excludes. I feel her goodness when I read there. Always, I come away grateful.

I had no idea when I first began writing here, that the people I would meet here, so many of you, would become friends of my mind, that I would feel such love for you, that you would find your way into my prayers, that you would know my secret heart.


  1. Well Angela Lister, you beautiful thing!

    Listen, I was deeply moved to read your thoughts on my work, and I am grateful to you for sharing them with your readers. A very generous and kind act.

    I just wanted to say thank you, and bless you. I hope you'll keep coming back, and share with me anything that is on your mind.



  2. tearful, i will definitely keep coming back. i am also enjoying reading some of your older posts, seeing your evolution as an artist, poet, human. i am glad to have found you on this tiny blue-green jewel sparkling in the abyss. thanks, too, for the kindness in your comment. namaste.

  3. melville wasn't talking of the bloggyhood when he wrote: "A thousand fibers connect us with our fellow men (sic); and among those fibers, as sympathetic threads, our actions run as causes, and they come back to us as effects." but this quote popped into my head when i read this wonderful post....

    namaste, thanks for having a place in my heart and sharing with such honesty and love your life...

  4. mouse, i remember you were the first one to ever send me love in a comment, and i was so touched by it, more than you know. thanks for your heart wide open, thanks for you.

  5. I don't even know what to say.. I'm typing through tears.
    I am at loss for the mystery of the connections felt with some bloggers... I could never have written it so perfectly .
    I am at a loss to explain why I have been so blessed and loved when so much of heart struggles to appreciate , to embrace, to love. I don't discount the creativity and genius and community of blogs in helping me to find the light , find the path, find the way away from self.
    thank you for being here.. for being a place I feel privileged to visit.

  6. deb, there is so much mystery in this endeavor, and that is its beauty. when i sat down to post yesterday, i didn't know this was what I was going to write, but then i visited some of your blogs first, and when i started this is what came out, i felt so full of gratitude for this community we share, this forgiving corner of the planet. I felt so blessed. thank you.

  7. A very poignant post, Angela.
    I love your kind soul and loving heart.

  8. Gabriele, and you! thank you for visiting here and I send hugs to you, too.

  9. Here's to the "thousand fibers"! I admire the honesty and openness of your blog, Angella. You share so much with us, and we appreciate it. :)

  10. You know, you're one of two or three people I only know through blogs, but actually think about often enough that you're a real part of my life. When I mention Angella to my husband, he knows who I'm referring to. :)

    Thanks for being a part of my life!

  11. Found you from your comment at Dishwasher's Tears. Your essay reflects what I've discovered and feel about the blog writers with whom I share some of the thousand fibers. The honesty and the courage it inspires in me, at least my version of courage, are gifts I could never have imagined. Thank you for this post.

  12. Steve, thanks for being there at some critical moments. hope you're well and managing to find some time for you in that busy new schedule!

    ellen, sometimes I'm taken aback to realize we've only met in blogworld, our friendship is so real. my husband knows who ellen is, too!

    Marylinn, i so know what you mean. Thank you for visiting and commenting and I hope you come by again often!