It is no secret that I am addicted to words. As a career writer, I live and breathe their essence. They delight me to no end. They are the beat of my heart and the blood that flows through my veins. They are a source of emotional, spiritual and physical support. They feed my right livelihood work that pays the bills. They have kept me sane and vertical and reminded me in the midst of the dark nights of the soul, that the sun will come out tomorrow. I write because I can’t NOT write. I write also because, so I’ve been told, that it makes a difference in the lives of those who take in the words and make meaning out of them for themselves.

When I cast the words out in the blog-o-sphere, I send with them, a prayer that they reach whoever they are meant to and, because I am human, I would love to receive positive feedback. I like seeing the numbers go up on the little counters on some of the pages of the sites for which I write. Not being totally altruistic.

Today, I had cyber encounters with two talented writer friends. One of them was responding to an article I had written for The Huffington Post called The Perils and Pitfalls of Being a Prodigious Writer. I had quoted her in it and she was astounded that I had mentioned her, since like many writers, she too questions who is reading her stuff and whether it is having an impact. Theresa Byrne’s writing is clever, engaging and gleaned from her own life experience. Her articles and memes always spark me to action.

The other is Kurt Koontz whose book A Million Steps chronicles his journey along The Camino. He sends out a regular newsletter with short snippets of insights that always connect to issues with which I am either grappling or in which I am splashing about playfully. Today’s was no exception. He was writing about the concept of placing moats around ourselves so as to keep out what we fear. He encouraged folks to ‘de-moat’ themselves. I think in metaphors too and that one is apt for my own healing journey, even though I can’t see myself literally traversing the long walk he took. My own ‘Camino experience’ looks different and I need not get physical blisters on the soles of my feet from it. I can certainly say that emotional blisters have resulted from having pebbles in my soul shoes.

My response:   “I think my moat has been work and co-dependent relationships. Hiding behind what looked like dazzling and tapestry draped walls made it appear that all was well. I would let the drawbridge down and invite folks in to the castle where there would be all manner of luscious banquets spread and musicians and heck, even a court jester. The thing is, much of it was illusion. Smoke and mirrors. Sadness masquerading as joy. Now that I am facing those addictions, the hospitality is genuine. The joy is genuine. The Lady of the castle is revealing the real.”

Thank you, Theresa and Kurt and a gazillion other wordsmiths who keep me honest.