An audience of one

AS I'VE OFTEN commented in the past, for some reason, writing the editor’s letter for PLW is just about my least favorite chore each month. Now, that’s got to be a bit strange, hasn’t it? Especially when you consider that, growing up, all I ever wanted to do was write. That’s why I first became a journalist, then went on to carve out a career that took in virtually every aspect of the media.

Communication is my lifeblood. It was there in my stars from the outset. As a double Gemini, ruled by mercury, the planet of communication, I could hardly avoid it. Words are my medium. So you’d think that after more than three decades earning my living in this manner, writing a simple little introduction each month would be easy-peasy for me.

But it’s not. Quite the reverse. I’d say that writing this little column is just about one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to write. Even after five years, it never seems to get any easier.

Over the years, I’ve tried everything I know to wriggle out of it; including passing the job over to my good friend, Ron McCray, who used to be Associate Editor here before he left for pastures new. I even proposed stopping it once, on the grounds that, with so many good articles competing for your attention each month, no one probably read this column anyway, so why not put the space to better use? But – darn it - a flurry of protests soon put a stop to that ploy. For strangely, as several readers have pointed out over the years, I seem to have a knack for pulling topics out of the air only to later find that they are anything but the “desperate eleventh-hour musings” I invariably think they are.

It happened again just last month. Only this time, I wasn’t so much surprised by the evidence that, once again, I had managed ‘synchronistically’ to touch upon something that several readers are currently experiencing in their own lives, as I was shocked by the revelation that the words I had written at the end of October were exactly what I myself most needed to hear less than three weeks later.

Suddenly, I think a light may have come back on! Whatever any of us thinks, writes, speaks, preaches or teaches is really only ever aimed at an audience of one. I know this. I ought to, I’m always bloody well telling it to everyone else. Could the reason I struggle so much with this letter be that I’m trying to avoid hearing my own truth?

I’ve said it many times before: there’s really only one of us here… looking into several billion, trillion, beautifully crafted mirrors. And what better time than Christmas to remind myself, your self, our self, the one-self, of the desire to own this truth?

We are one.

So do be especially kind to all our many reflections this holiday season.

Merry Christmas, Joyeux Noel, Happy Chrimble,

From all of us here to all of ‘us’ out there!