My virtual friend, the Lady, has honored me by reading my flash fiction story Litmus on her podcast, Call of the Lark. She did a wonderful job and I am humbled to be appreciated by her in this way. Thank you! Check out her podcast; she will be reading literature and poetry as well as taking submissions.
In her introduction, she spoke to my writing here in this space, and the pieces of ourselves we share with the world. Often we bloggers write to cast ourselves in the best light possible, but we also operate under the knowledge that life is not all pretty prose or well crafted pieces of art; life is the chaotic stimulus gestating these shared mementos. Sometimes it takes the hardships to produce a beautiful sentiment, a thoughtful gift, or a genuine reflection. Sometimes it takes joys to make us see how much hardship we unintentionally create.
This space, this small room called pneuma, is a window into my musings. I'm really here, passing by the window every so often, offering a glimpse inside. This space is a comfort to me, a fire-lit hearth room of sorts, where I can be myself, but not negative, not pressured, not anything for anyone but me. It is a shelter; a safe haven.
There are other shelters I seek refuge in; places I can be someone else. For example, in my stories, I can be anything or anyone. I can be any saturated color of emotion and paint for you a picture that would move you to tears or laughter, make you want to hang it on your wall or burn it to ashes. This shelter is the basement; inhabited by clicking claw creatures. These shadowy figures are the ephemeral ideas and emotions I brave the darkness to gather and craft into a story.
I am grateful for being able to share my home with you; both the cozy rooms as well as the dark corners. The doors here are never locked; make yourself at home.