Best Selling Novel..

So in case the general public didn't know which I'm sure most of you don't I am writing a book. And not just any book but one that is going to end up on the New York Times Best Seller List. Obviously by my totally humble attitude I'm going to be the next be writer. But in all seriousness this book is totally my baby and I only work on it in bits and pieces and because I usually follow the tradition of several writers and don't let people read my work before it is all finished I thought I'd give you all a treat. I wrote a little today and I thought you all might like to read a little of it. Just some information for you before you start. This book is a memoir and it is about my life, my experience both good and bad, and my faith. So here is a little piece, my writing is not censored and seems very journalistic. So it may not be a writing style everyone will enjoy reading but check it and let me know what you think.

One more thing, there is a Alice and Wonderland like them in my novel; so I make several, several references to it. Happy Reading:

It has been months since I have written anything honest and now that I am the words seem to be spiraling faster and faster , unable to be captured fast enough by my fingers pounding on the keys. It seems strange to be writing again, and yet there is an excitement underneath the surface of my soul that I haven’t felt in a long time. It soothes something inside of me to get the words out, the words that we use to describe feelings that at times seem indescribable. My life is seemingly in a chaotic spiral of good days and bad days. Today fortunately happens to be a good day. But as I sit here on the floor of a local bookstore trying to find my thoughts, my feelings, and myself I realize that I’m still a little lost. I’m still running around the rabbit hole trying to find my way home.

What would happen if I stopped running and stopped looking for home, what if I just stopped? The concept seems foreign and terrifying. But what would happen if I stopped? What if Alice had never gone home, what if she had stayed in Wonderland? But do I want to stay here? Would my life be easier if I gave up the search?- Absolutely. But if I stopped searching for myself, God, and everything else what would I lose? What would I gain? Would I gain the freedom I crave so much or would I be more chained down than I already am?

Someone once told me that there is beauty in everything, even in my broken humanness, my lostness, and cynicism. Beauty must truly be in the eye of the beholder, because I don’t see the beauty in broken pieces of glass and soul. I don’t see the beauty in tears and pain. I don’t see it. I can’t see it. I won’t see it.

But then I do, I see it in someone else’s brokenness; in the story of their triumphs, tragedy, and failures. And their brokenness reminds me of my own brokenness, my own humanness, my own faults and failures and it is both beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. To see myself reflected in others is not always something that I want to see. It’s difficult some days to face my own reflection to see the depth of the screwed-upness in my own soul let alone seeing it within others. Yet within all the difficulty of looking within my own soul and the other’s souls it seems fascinating still to observe the humanness of our own behaviors. I seem to find some sort of perverse satisfaction in watching the human condition unravel, but it’s not really the unraveling that has me fascinated but the rebuilding of self and of the life that those around me have. It gives me hope to see the horribleness of the human condition and the beauty of the condition at its best. When people including myself reach out to those around us, when total strangers show each other small acts of kindness it re-establishes my faith in the goodness of people even when my faith in my own goodness is shaken.

My searching seems to continue then for a way to control my humanness, to box all of my ability to fail and become flawless. But even the concept of that is in itself a flaw, I’m not stupid enough to believe that humanity has the ability to be flawless, far from it even in our attempts and striving for perfection we are flawed. But maybe that is the point. Maybe God or that higher power or whatever you believe created humanity just to point to their own perfection. Narcissistic seeming, but really not just a balancing of the sides; the balancing of the cosmic scales or something like that. For every perfection there is an imperfection; for every beautiful thing there is something ugly and unlovely. For every question there is an answer and for every need there is a sense of fulfillment. In looking at my own flaws this way it seems to make them less ugly and more just part of some cosmic equation, and yet even that seems cold and dead. Life must then not always be about maintaining cosmic balance, but about something else. The search, the game, the drive, the journey… what then is this all about? What is the point of my imperfection and is there any way to correct this seemingly grievous error about the human condition?

To Be Continued…..