‘I will find the time to keep writing in this new job’, I promised myself and everyone around who asked. ‘We’re setting it up so that I can.’

Of course, having time is only a tiny, tiny part of the writing equation. More importantly, there have to be words – and for me, as an introvert, they have to be words that aren’t already spoken; and for me in this new role, they have to be words that are mine to tell. I must have deleted twenty posts in the last few weeks, because they broke either or both of those rules. Hence the silence.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

from Before you know what kindness really is by Naomi Shihab Nye

My new year’s resolution was to be kind. It’s going the way of all new year’s resolutions: I am failing, but at least now I remember I’m failing.

I chose kindness. I didn’t realise then that with it I would be choosing sorrow. Sorrow didn’t come by way of a resolution.

I didn’t connect the different meanings of resolution before I wrote that sentence: I resolve to live more kindly; I want sorrow to be resolved.


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