Those blind spots of our power are known to echo loudly, often when we least expect it.
Case in point… I conceived the idea for my first book during one of the lowest points of my life. It was in the aftermath of my Father’s passing, the man who ran marathons, instilled a love of Star Trek, Star Wars, National Geographic, NOVA, the fealty of family and a mandate to:
“Keep your nose in these books son, they will save your life.”
When he left this place, I was angry because I hadn’t comprehended a world without him in it – I foolishly assumed that time was a luxury to be had.
His death shook me to the core and I was resigned to join him by way of a broken heart.
Until I wasn’t.
A couple days after his transition, I took a walk along the Gunpowder River when grief struck and I dropped down to one knee, overcome by the torrential streams of tears that seemed to rival the river that was flowing just yards away from me.
Whether it was anxiety or heart palpitations… it was short lived.
As I cried while my heart beat through my jacket, I recalled a conversation that I had with my Father weeks before and I rose to my feet, feeling his presence and a voice… or an inclination, telling me to get up… and run.
I complied and I began running down the trail and when I stopped.
I was at the water’s edge… I closed my eyes I recalled that mandate from my Father that served as a call to action.
“These books… these words will save your life son.”
My Father would often marvel at my nature photography even telling me once… “you need to just sit out there and write a book, don’t use your hands for the wrong thing son.”
It was at this point that the tears stopped and I spoke his words into existence…
As I stood on the Water’s Edge, I declared that I would dedicate a book in his memory, because words live forever.
Through my Father, I learned the business of my humanity and in turn I inspired others by converting pain into prose, when I didn’t even know it.
Beauty can come from the dark places, I am proof positive.
That… should be the business of our humanity.
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