Return. Return. Return.
I’m back. Back with a vengeance. Back with a bang. Back again. Back to work. Back to school. Back to Farmersville. Back in black. Back in force. Back then. Way back when. Backing away. Backing up. Back to stare life in its eyes, to refuse the fate it has offered me, to see the world as it is, to imagine it as it should be, to fight for that dream, to strive for individuality, to fight for freedom, to sue for expression.
In short, I have returned, and all the better for it. The time spent away was wonderful and simplistic, restful and needed. I would hope for you the same peace that I have enjoyed over the last week, but I find it improbable that you will find it. Peace eludes so many of us and for so long, but it is not unreachable, unattainable. I pray, I hope, I plead for you that you will find a peace that surpasses all understanding and satisfies even the deepest recesses of your soul, for what can you cling to that is of higher importance, greater value, stronger fiber than your soul. I submit there is no such substance, whether on this mortal plane, in the hellish places, or among the divine heavens. Without your soul, you truly are nothing.
Now more than ever, I am convinced I’m a hippie.
It’s strange, alarming. I have apparently developed a completely different writing style upon return. I can’t explain why, nor when it happened, though obviously some change has been wrought. I have spent the last week fully entranced in novels be a certain man, Richard A. Knaak, who certainly is a superior writer to any I have yet had the good fortune to read the works of. Remarkable, definitely. His book, King of the Grey, is far and away the greatest novel I have ever read, a wonder in its own right, original and compelling; I could not put it down, as the saying goes. In truth, I have done little else but read for the past seven days, a wonderful seven days to say the least. I suspect that somewhere in all the exposure to greater, higher, better forms of writing, I have adapted this new form. Not a change with which I would express any qualms. Maybe it will remain, perhaps it will dissolve. Either way, it’s nice to have the experience.
Anyway, back on subject. The time away was remarkable, hence my remarking upon it, and gave me a much-needed chance to relax and refresh. I have read and written, slept and dreamed, reached and achieved. In the end, my only concern is this:
Remind me again why I only do this once a year???