Where it all starts

 Where it all starts...

Where it all starts...

This is where it starts. I haven't written in a long time. I suppose I stopped knowing what to say. Does one just talk to the void? If there is never a response, or at least, you perceive no response, do you keep talking? Do you keep writing? Does it even matter?

Is it a mere existential crisis?

Is anything every really just a "mere something"? 

CS Lewis once told his friend, Baker, about letters he'd written to his brother being returned with address incorrect:

What was the use of going on dispatching fervent messages - say to Edinburgh - if they all came back through the dead letter office: nay more, if you couldn't even find Edinburgh on the map. His cryptic reply was that it would be almost worth going to Edinburgh to find out.

I think part of the answer isn't so much that you feel no answer, no reply; rather, you simply do what you were made to do.

Or perhaps, as Wilcox might put it, in regards to a message in a bottle, you put all your hopes and all your dreams into it, but where it goes and when it gets there, well, that has more to do with the ocean than with you (2).

  1. C.S. Lewis, Yours, Jack: Spiritual Direction from C.S. Lewis; Letter to his brother, Warren Lewis, 1 July 1921, p. 7
  2. David Wilcox, Live Songs and Stories; track 2, Terminal Tavern
Posted on November 1, 2011 and filed under Letter.