There is truth and there is Truth, and the big T usually trumps the little one. At least it does in my writing. The tiny details in my life are often sacrificed in favor of the big ideas within them. I like this. If there’s one thing I want to share with people, it’s that every life is filled with holiness; all we have to do in order to see it is slow down and take a deep breath.
Most of my posts have very little to do with me and instead tend to focus upon the people around me, folks who are a lot more interesting than I am. My life and what’s going on with me is not nearly as entertaining as the neighbor down the road or the guy who picks up my trash.
Usually, anyway. But not always. Sometimes something you’ve kept secret needs to be told, because sometimes what haunts you does so because you’re too afraid to talk about it.
For the past nineteen years I’ve known an old man in a bowler hat. He’s never given me his name, never offered. And frankly, asking him is the furthest thing from my mind.
I’ll invite you over to Katdish’s blog to read the story. It’s a good one, and one that’s offered me a good deal of liberation in writing. But since we’re tight, you and I, I’ll also give you a little warning. This isn’t my normal sort of post. There is upbeat, aw-shucks Billy, and there is the Billy who broods. Katdish let me brood today. For that, she has my thanks.
The upbeat, aw-shucks Billy will be back tomorrow, when I’ll tell you a story about how my daughter taught me to plant beans. But for now, follow me…
