Cadence of Despair
More Sample Writing
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Sipping Soda
"How are you?" he asked, in the coffee shop, The Commons. We each sipped a sparkling soda, black cherry, in the later afternoon, on which yellow daffodils swayed outside in light wind and rain. I searched for words that would be honest, not wanting to miss that moment of old friendship, that had us face to face swaying together. "I'm dangerously lonely," I said. Then we sipped more soda and followed the lonely together. |
Boasting and Sparing
Men often boast of professional and financial success. It appears casual, but it's really old, just without literal spears and swords. Men often spar in an arena meant to mask personal insecurity. But, to be fair, what men often really want is a belonging and worth that lives beyond boasting and sparing. |
From the Introduction
IT‘S EARLY MORNING. By that, I mean middle of the night, often between 2:00 and 3:30 a.m. I wake, and then lay awake, just as I do for many middles of the nights. Sometimes, I wake in my bed. Sometimes, on the floor, where I‘d collapsed myself into sleep the night before, craving the lowest elevation I could find. Sometimes, in the closet where I‘d try to cocoon my fears and despair. I wake hoping that it isn‘t time to get up. Because I‘m afraid that I can‘t muster the energy to face another day. I want to remain longer, in oblivion, removed from the waking world and the despair that has come to grip me....
What I‘ve learned has very much been that it is significant and important to develop a relationship with these most seemingly personal, yet in the end, universal human experiences – despair, grief, loss, wonder, hope, love.
We don‘t "do" despair or "do" love so that we can then be done with them. We come to know them like we know our feet or hands. We come to know capabilities and limits with both gratitudes and a few laments.
I write these words with hope that they might help create access and relationship for others with their versions of despair, and, thus with more awakened honesty of being human and in human communities. It‘s a bit of permission to claim what we deny...
IT‘S EARLY MORNING. By that, I mean middle of the night, often between 2:00 and 3:30 a.m. I wake, and then lay awake, just as I do for many middles of the nights. Sometimes, I wake in my bed. Sometimes, on the floor, where I‘d collapsed myself into sleep the night before, craving the lowest elevation I could find. Sometimes, in the closet where I‘d try to cocoon my fears and despair. I wake hoping that it isn‘t time to get up. Because I‘m afraid that I can‘t muster the energy to face another day. I want to remain longer, in oblivion, removed from the waking world and the despair that has come to grip me....
What I‘ve learned has very much been that it is significant and important to develop a relationship with these most seemingly personal, yet in the end, universal human experiences – despair, grief, loss, wonder, hope, love.
We don‘t "do" despair or "do" love so that we can then be done with them. We come to know them like we know our feet or hands. We come to know capabilities and limits with both gratitudes and a few laments.
I write these words with hope that they might help create access and relationship for others with their versions of despair, and, thus with more awakened honesty of being human and in human communities. It‘s a bit of permission to claim what we deny...
