Just Passing Through

"There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. ... No artist is pleased. [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others."  --from The Life and Work of Martha Graham

It’s been some time since I crossed my own path here at wildturtle. Something is keeping me in my shell -- even as I pour words by the thousands into my day (and night and weekend ) job tending to my duties as editor and writer of an online monthly publication (myJewishDetroit.org – if you care to take a peek). . . always working on a deadline, in a monthly cycle that keeps me anxious and ever-vigilant of the calendar, somehow I’ve left this space, my space – an empty space, waiting and wanting, like a lost cursor on an blank screen.

There is a vitality in the work that must be done everyday, and the prospect – and the inevitability - of ever stopping unnerves me. I dread to think about turning over a blank page, finally at a loss for words.

As night falls on this summer day, I think of so many days and nights I’ve spent at a keyboard – tap, tap, tapping on assignment, a school paper, a advertising campaign, a television script, an annual report, an article, an interview. So many words. . . and so many well composed, but not really my own.

And yet. . . and yet, put all those words together and between the lines you might find me there.

A turtle. In a shell. Crossing ever so slowly. Through my garden.

Words & Photos: Vivian Henoch

Thanks for dropping by.

And visit if you wish: myJewishDetroit.org