What I’m hinting at is a power and mystery beyond me. I have to write mindlessly and without getting in the way of the process. This means, that almost everything I do, my words, my thoughts, my feelings are all a product of something beyond myself. Who I am is only slightly visible to myself. I’m afraid this strange force will leave me, eventually. And I’m afraid of what I might find the deeper I go within. I move slow and with patience. So that each word I write is an act of re-creation, a renewing, and a redemption.