A Message in a Bottle

I happened to be chatting via Facebook with a friend last evening and I realized something new. Writing The Beggar's Blog is very much like composing a message, inserting it into a bottle, and throwing the bottle out to sea. Once away, it's out of your hands. You can only hope it will wash up on shore somewhere and someone will find it, rinse off the sand and seaweed, break open the seal, and read.

You don't know who that someone might be nor can you imagine what they might think. Water may have leaked in around the cork and the ink has become smeared. Even if they know the language, the words are unintelligible. But that's not what you think about. What you think about is how you hope someone will find it and find it meaningful.

It's about reaching out, trying to touch, sharing feeling, yearning to connect. It's what we do, humans and animals alike. We weren't meant to be alone and we know it. We wish to be a part of one another -- any part -- so long as we are not apart. Arms outstretched, fingers extended, leaning farther than we've ever dared, we hope to meet.

A person might leave a comment, send an email, find me on Facebook -- they were wandering the edge of the sea when they saw the sun flash off the glass. They reached down for a shell and found me beneath. Twisting away the cork, they reached in and drew me forth. Breathing the air of that unknown land, hearing familiar words in an unfamiliar voice, discovering how it looks through their eyes -- this is what it's like, this single step.

Of faith.


(Image by alles-schlumpf via Flickr)