By Henry Amador-Batten
This is the time of year that writers and bloggers generally love.
It’s a joyful and special time that is full of wonder and memories and traditions.
It makes for especially warm and receptive articles that touch our readers in those warm and fuzzy holiday ways.
It’s also when we get to pull out family recipes and prepare our homes to welcome friends and loved ones. It’s when kindness prevails and most everyone tries just a bit harder to spread that good will we hear all about.
It’s when we watch that special parade that always brings with it the arrival of that jolly bearded fellow.
I always cry when he makes his way out again after the long year gone by and my husband always rolls his eyes at me. I don’t really know why I cry I just do and pretty much always have.
See, great fodder for writing, right?
But this year has also brought such great sadness and tragedy to our world to many of our friends and for some to even family members.
Acts of terrorism seem to be all we see and discuss right now and although they have occurred far from most of us physically, they have still rocked and shaken us with the same intensity and emotion we would have felt had it happened down the street.
We can no longer live our lives as if what happens to “them” does not affect “us,” there really is no more “them.”
I have to admit that my writing, my blogging about life as I know it and as I experience it has been increasingly difficult lately.
It has been feeling small in this great big world.
I have been questioning the relevance of it all, the struggles of a relatively privileged gay man living a pretty wonderful life all in all.
I’ve really been struggling with how it stands up against the real pain, loss and struggles that so many face today.
It’s been harder and harder to imagine that the words I put to paper are really beneficial and worthy of your time, and many of the writers I communicate with have been experiencing the same problem.
One reminded me that we write what we know, we write what we feel and as a beautiful by-product of that writing someone see’s themselves and can relate to it and hopefully benefit from it.
That’s truly the best we can hope for and why we should never silence ourselves.
That made sense to me, I related to it and so I write on.
I have to believe that humans are inherently good and that our family recipes are still really important and that not getting lost in the sadness of the world is the only way to get through it, to make it.
I want to continue to cry when Santa hits Herald Square and I want to forever be warmed by good memories and good people.
This year has brought my family so many, many things to be thankful for and even the challenges and the hard times will find a way to become blessings.
I believe the greatest gift we can give to our families, our friends, our world and ourselves if the gift of rising to the top and reaching for happiness, the best thing we can do right here and right now is let all the darkness naturally sink to the bottom.
So for today I continue to write and to love and to hope.
I continue to give thanks for all that my life is but most especially to you, the really awesome and cool folks that read these humble and simple words and who continue to give me the most precious kind of gift there is, the gift of inspiration.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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