In the history of ink, which is rapidly coming to an end, the
ancient world turns from the use of India ink to adopt sepia. Sepia is made
from the octopus, the squid & the cuttlefish. One curious property of the
cuttlefish is that, once dead, its body begins to glow. This mild
phosphorescence reaches its greatest intensity a few days after death, then
ebbs away as the body decays. You can read by this light. ~Srikanth Reddy
Last to be first, lose to find,
die to live. These, the paradoxes upon which we build our lives. It's
fascinating and mysterious to me.
This week, I read the above excerpt
from Facts for Visitors, which reminded
me of the paradoxes inherent in the life of a creative writer. We delve into
our pain and brokenness to create beauty. Sit sequestered for long periods of
time to help build human connectedness, the effects of which we seldom
see.
I love the image of death
creating the phosphorescence of words. There really is such a powerful, phosphorescent
quality to writing—we illuminate the inner workings of ourselves and the
contours of each moment to help others do the same.
It’s hard though, isn’t it? I really resonated with Sarah Schock’s
description of art the Editor’s Note of this spring’s Inkstone issue as something that requires a battering ram to the
heart. It hurts. And takes a lot of guts.
I just want to take a moment to thank you each of you for the
sacrifices represented in the pieces you have shared with me and others in our
classes. In this year’s classes especially, I have really seen you all (and the
others in those classes) step out and take deeper risks, growing in
vulnerability and a willingness to tackle the tough or taboo topics.
Seeing how much I’ve been personally impacted and blessed by
hearing from the depths of your experience has really challenged and inspired
me to pursue vulnerability myself. It’s such a profound blessing to realize
that you’re not alone. To understand yourself a bit more clearly through the
musings of someone else.
So, thank you for the courage that your writing this year required.
This will probably sound weirdly maternal or cliché, but I’m proud of you. As
Hougen says, you are beautiful people, more than you know. Please don’t ever
stop.
