There are times when life seems to pile on worry after worry, bad moment after bad moment, until you feel buried by awfulness. But there is something about that amount of pressure that I find frees up something inside, knocks loose something stuck, and there I find the ability to write boldly and (sometimes) beautifully. Maybe it’s that at the end of hope we let go of the things that hold us back. Maybe it’s that in those difficult moments, art emerges as a way to keep us from going over the edge. I don’t know. But when it happens, though I hope it doesn’t happen too often, I know I can use it. Can/do you?
[Image from Wikimedia Commons. “Fanatics dancing on graves.”]