Humble

Man, people, I mean, totally.



I, just, you know, write this blog because I love it. It's the inner satisfaction, you know? And I share it with whoever, out in the public, just in case it will mean something to a few other people. Sure it's great that millions of other people respond strongly to it, and obsess over it, and read it every day, and study it, and all that. But that's not what I'm after. I'm simply after that cool, clear place of getting it all right for myself.

Great, if it means something to you. It's super nice of you to tell me, though of course you understand that it's physically impossible for me to respond to thousands of letters and emails each week. But bless you, absolutely. 

But if you could cool it all a bit on the anger and disappointment on my behalf that would be great.

"You are the god of writing. It kills me that you aren't wildly famous!!!!" Is such a nice thought really, and thank you, from the bottom of my heart, but it's not a contest. It's just you and me out there on your computer. Enjoy, okay? It's not competition or proof. It's just witness.

"Why you aren't the richest, most published and acclaimed writer on the face of the Earth is a crime I will never fathom!" People tell me every single day. And I just want to say, hey. C'mon. Love comes from within.

Because hey. Springsteen wrote me last week. "I will open for you if you tour." He said. "The world needs your wisdom. Just you, on a stage, reading your blog posts, would be a strange revelation in itself, like the mighty prophets come again. Let me talk to my people. I admire you above all other artists in the world."

Bruce, hey, easy there Boss. 

I'm not going to start carrying on about how I'm not wise. Maybe I am, and maybe I'm not, but if I am, at all, it's because I live close to my heart. This is a big universe. I can write, but no one can write into the fabric of the universe? Do you know what I mean?

No?

Yeah, well I guess it is kind of complicated.

Mary Oliver emailed me the other day: "That last one, about the robins, pierced me to the heart. Do you sell any t-shirts with your blog address on them?" And it truly touched me, you know? But, c'mon, Mary, Mary Oliver, Pulitzer Prize winning Poet Mary Oliver, please. So I wrote her back and I said:

"Emily Dickinson wrote: 'Fame is a fickle food, Upon a shifting plate'"

And Mary Oliver wrote back "But what does that mean?"

And I wrote back "I thought you would know. I have no clue. But it's awesome! Emily Dickinson was one of the greats! A giant!"

And Mary Oliver wrote back "Totally!"