Regardless of their fallenness, it nonetheless remains that thought and language are the privileged signs of our being created in God's image: they are the marks of our closeness to God. Anywhere one encounters thought or its traces one may sense a sign of God's calling to man and of man's closeness to God.
Thus it is that I sense the miracle of the creation far more in an individual utterance, or in a written text, than I do in any of the scenes of outward nature. For me, the vault of the sky is a far lesser miracle than the discourse of two children overheard in the park.
It was in 1989 that I began to be drawn down this path.
There was a voice I heard at first, and it became a matter of not losing that voice.
The traces of the voice are there as writing. Writing is what is done so that the voice will not be lost.
I do not consider writing just another technology. Rather I think of writing as a special gift from God, or as a mark of God's greater gift.
Let the other technologies abuse and be abused as they will: only let writing remain as this gift.
I have given texts to others in hopes of finding some who will realize that writing is a sacramental activity.
Of course I know there is much writing that is not part of the sacrament. Witness the billion words of nothing being dashed out everywhere around us. That writing falls into nothing even as it is written; its writing is already the pull of nothing.
Never has so much writing been done as now, and perhaps never has so little Writing been done.
I hope to find those who realize writing as a sacrament.
Am I part of the body of the Church catholic? Different readers will answer this question differently. I myself will say: Yes, I am a Christian. And: Yes, I am part of the body of the Church. These assertions on my part should be clear from everything I've written.
I would like to say I am part of the Christian Duration. I would like to say I am a Durationist. What this means I will try to make clear in my writing from here on.