Violence UnSilenced

I have not long been a part of the blogging world. I'll never know all the whys and wherefores, the how-to and the possibles. I look at the gadgetry and the clickety-links and the "enlarge this picture" and the colorful, moving pageant that scrolls its way so effortlessly and instantly from one continent and idea and preparation to another. My one picture was laboriously posted with help of Chris and a LONG set of notations in my journal, so as to do it by myself “next time.”

I frequent a few sites in particular; I stumble from them into “their” favored spaces, the ones that they list as their own, and explore from there into tributaries and capillaries of trickle-down and surge-up that lead to riches and realms unknown.

Family and cooking and homekeeping lead to decorating and in turn to baking wonderful and beautiful and whimsical things. The links spread and guide and channel me to another and another, as I click and read and admire and look my eyes full of the colors and shapes and beings of places and times and scenes I know not, and I embrace the swiftness and the transformation and the window-openings of the so-easy travel, the momentary peeks into other lives, other moments, in an eyeblink.

And I, too, link here several that I enjoy and look forward to seeing; also waiting every day are the scores more, returned to for another glimpse of that garden---what will be blooming today?---and the mouth-watering photos of foods and ingredients and methods unusual to me, but soon to become old favorites.

Just the words and the banners and the enticing photos lead me back time and again for another taste, another comfy read, another moment in a life not my own. And I'm captivated by the New: people and places to be experienced through eye and ear, though never to be met save through the marvel of this Strange and Mystical Machine that so captivates us all.

As a Newcomer myself, scarce a quarter-year of the crowd, I might hesitate to bid Welcome to another who also seeks and finds, who sends out thoughts and happenings and ideas and opinions into the world, unsought and unexpected. This is not MY Party---I feel like the pot-luck guest who brings a coupla McDonald's ketchup packets to dinner. It seems, somehow, like jumping up to usher in a fellow guest, pushing past the host to offer first greeting and refreshment not of my own making.

It’s felt awkward, somehow, to introduce a new find---a new bright parcel still bursting from the wrappings, a just-birthed NEW place that is even now looking around with wondering eyes and seeking its way---as if I had anything to do with the sweat and tears and trepidation involved. I can offer nothing but my whole-hearted support and admiration.

And there IS such a place; I’ve seen it growing into being, sending out seeking hands and a hopeful heart to find welcome, to make a home. Its Mothers and Founders have a story to tell---uncounted stories, truth be told---far too many. The words are coming, fast and hard, like hail from a clear sky, and like drops of the gentlest rain, speaking of erosion and tearing down, as well as resurrection and re-birth.

The site was created by one of my favorite writers, and has been a while in the making. She’s the lady known as maggiedammit; we are not acquainted save through my reading her work, and sending an admiring comment now and then. This site is her HeartChild. It’s only a few hours old, and the anticipation was such that it’s been visited by thousands, already.

I’m the most UN-political person there is, and urge upon others neither my opinions nor my choices. But I know what’s RIGHT and what’s NOT, and I'll fight a bear for what IS. This subject crosses every spectrum of life there is, and these voices should be heard.

The site is http://violenceunsilenced.com, and I hope you’ll look in. And speak out, if you have your own story to tell.