writing, reading, and healing

by walterdoege

I like to read since my childhood…the books are my compannions too…reading is a way of healing…the good reading does occur when the book seems to read my soul…and my body…even the self-help books help somehow…fiction literature is an endless lullaby for myself, be when I feel happiness, be when I feel grief…the old and classic fairytails still entertain myself…and the book is an invitation to read…to spend the time joyously, and wisely…to be out of time and place…for some moments…for some instants I am a heroe…a king…a beggar…a protagonist of a great story…but I’m in need and will of writing more than reading at this point of my life…the autumn point…it seems a need of face my own death in a serene way…my life present a beginning and an end…it reminds me the ‘the end’ at the final of a book, or a movie, or a theatre presentation…and I deeply wish a good end…when I go to a movie session…barely nowadays…I choose romantic movies with a happy end, or adventure movie with heroic features, or some cine works that are close to my temperament…I wish all ends be happy ends…and even after ‘the end’, the story continues in my mind…fiction is enternainment and a way to support tough realities…its needed some distraction, some laugh, some togetherness…side by side with the consciousnees of the painful realities that are also the world…even though, the happy end is the beginning of another story…I point out end…the end point opens new stories…and every people has a story to tell…in daily conversations I listen sometimes beautiful stories…this is the motif of the reading…a broad sense of reading…as reading and watching a movie, reading the nature events, reading the flowers, reading the stars at skies…every people is a writer, each people is a reader…and that readingscope is broad…yesterday I’ve read a worthy graffiti in a wall at streets: Before insight, wash the dishes. After insight, wash the dishes…so pretty!…so precious piece of alive literature…street literature…but I’m a writer…more than a blogger…I don’t know why I do write, but writing is a form of healing…healing the pain, healing the grief, healing the mourning, healing the bereavement, healing the shame, healing the fear, and this way, do allow the inner joy and gratitude to manifest to the world…the world is all of us…the world is not only a word…the words, bricks of my awkward writing…the world is all peoples that share a common mother: the earth. I do never take a trip on space, I do never place my feet on the moon, but the photos from the spacecrafts present one blue earth…one humanity…one love…tomorrow is mom’s day…I miss my mother…tomorrow its not possible to give her a gift, an embrace, a lovely kiss…share so walking…share a good converstion…share the watchness of the stars…she died almost one year ago, but I feel her presence…and all my loved ones…the body go away with the winds of time…her soul is so close to me!…my soul and my body do prepare a beautiful bouquet of two roses, two flowers, and one love…and from some worthy reading I can write that I will not die, I will enter the whole life…out of time and space…and beyond my imagination can reach…beyond my writing can touch…me and my mother and the all loved ones can, at any time, take a party…to share love…to celebrate life…to spend the time together…doing good things…tomorrow we can stay together…there are many ways to stay together