The Beginning: of dust and breath…
Every story has a beginning. That’s true. But sometimes picking where to start a story is harder than you would think, as there’s many beginnings, then there’s often a time before the beginning of the beginning you pick!
Well, I’m going to start the story of this blog like this: “I guess this all started last year on my thirty-somethingth birthday… the breath of the Almighty whirled into several specks of dust of my life to start a new expression of his creative work through me, through words on the screen.
I’d been listening to ‘Seasons’ by the Australian band Hillsong, I think it was originally on a Christmas album but it wasn’t Yuletide when I discovered it. I mulled over this idea that I live day to day, moment to moment, and yet around all that the year turns its seasons, one after another, each different to the last, and in ways even to the last instance of it. Maybe you’ve said or heard something like: Boy wasn’t it a hot summer? Not as hot as last! Not as hot as back in ’63 some might say.
So I want to blog on my life as seasons, when I’m caught up it’ll be about the one preceding, within the one following, so I have a three month window to blog. Four posts a year is my minimum target, more is OK.
These are the seasons I’d like to start with:
The story of Summer, Year One : The boy becomes a hunter
The story of Spring, Year Zero: The house with no doors
The story of Winter, Year Zero: Dunkirk
The story of Autumn, Year Zero: Immersed. init
The story of Summer, Year Zero: Cleansing
But the seasons of the year aren’t the only season’s I’ve been thinking about, there’s also seasons in my life as a man as I age and mature, and there’s seasons to the story we all live in, so there will be some thoughts on that too in time.
