I noticed this weekend that several ladies in blogopolis wrote love letters to their bodies, correspondences that were accepting and affirming. I read them and found them refreshing. I woke this morning thinking about writing a love letter to my body but somewhere between my chest and my knees I got derailed into jotting down a note to those known as young, restless, and reformed. Yeah, not sure what all was going on there, but let’s not overthink it, okay? Then again, maybe this is a love letter to my body, sorta.
Dear group at one time described as young, restless, and reformed –Not that you really care but it feelsgood to at least try and point outthere are some of us not like you,some of us older, easy, and mystic.We’ve no problem with orthodoxyper se, other than its just so damnorthodox. We realize a symposiumon Jonathan Edwards can make yougiddy but might we suggest insteadusing that time and money to drivedown Hwy 1 and stay in Big Sur?No thanks? Okay, just a thought.Not that you’ll lose any sleep overthis but do know we’ve no desireto try and change you in any way, its a free country and all that jazz.But in the interest of full disclosurewe’re compelled to show our cards:there are more of us than you think, we can live for years on poetry, and we’re not afraid of dreamcatchers or you.