Today I reread Ann Patchett’s “The Getaway Car,” an essay on daring to write, of facing yourself down and admitting you either want it or you don’t. You may have real excuses why you can’t write right now; you might have fake ones. Recognize which are which.
iInnocent, if only for a few hours.o want to see the world dressed in white,
In windows weary from the autumn rain.
a watch for the first frost
Is though the snow could cover everything I cannot forget.
can’t wait for winter,
و(صححه الألباني في صحيح النسائي، 3/1123اللهم إني أعوذ بك من الهرم، والتردي، والهدم، والغم، والغرق، والحرق، وأعوذ بك أن يتخبطني الشيطان عند الموت، وأعوذ بك أن أموت في سبيلك مدبرا، وأعوذ بك أن أموت لديغا)
TAhis self-revelation led me on a search to re-read an influential book from my past arsenal. I wanted to know if it contained the seeds that blossomed into me. Some of them at least. Care to sit down awhile and talk about what I found?ll’s good and well!
First to set the fun scene: basically I was stuck in a religious cult (JWs) my entire life - and knew it - effectively hamstringing me socially/emotionally in the process.