A letter to my reader

To my reader,

Thank you. I write for you—and for myself as well. It’s a passion and a pleasure to transcribe words onto a page. It often feels as if I am not the writer but merely a scribe taking dictation, scribbling as quickly as my pen will move across the page, trying to capture the message as it arrives.

Sometimes, either while I am sleeping or in that half-awake, half-asleep twilight state, inspiration strikes me: “Write about this,” or “Don’t forget that.” This little letter to you takes shape in the wee hours of the night.

I wake up to a steaming cup of coffee, retreat to the room where my desk resides, light my sage candle and earthy incense, and pick up my pen. This ritual creates a sense of secure familiarity, allowing me to connect intimately with my thoughts and something much greater than myself. Perhaps it’s my ancestors, spirit guides, or God who draws nearer to me in this uninterrupted space.

Today, I am writing to express my gratitude to you, dear reader. You provide the audience for my words, the reason I maintain this blog. My website analytics enable me to track the number of people who read my blog, and the number of readers is encouraging. I visualize many people standing in a room, and it feels big and full. This feeling inspires me to keep writing for you.

Years ago, while living in London, I had the opportunity to see James Taylor perform at the Apollo Theatre, a quintessential English auditorium with intimate red velvet seats, gold ornate woodwork, and a warm atmosphere as we gathered to listen.

Here’s the interesting part (which came to me in the middle of the night): the number of seats available in the Apollo Theatre (I googled it) is the same as the number of reader views I had yesterday.

James Taylor sat on a simple wooden stool at the center of the stage. He played alone—no backup, no support, no embellishments. Just a man and his guitar. His voice was both soothing and electric. What struck me most was the raw, genuine vulnerability he displayed during his solo concert.

In my writing, I endeavor to convey a similar rawness with minimal editing (except for Grammarly, which helps me with punctuation and verb tense). I strive to create unedited material that hopefully grips you, dear reader, keeping you engaged and, more importantly, inspiring and connecting you to something larger—a softer way of being and perhaps something beyond your ordinary day.

Thank you.