tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4285458481178083056.post7724514692130634473..comments2023-05-29T03:00:24.838-07:00Comments on When Frogs Sing: Missing: Muse. If found, please return to ....Tanya Anguitahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10261534304962274441noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4285458481178083056.post-58490591896773443892011-06-28T17:20:07.763-07:002011-06-28T17:20:07.763-07:00I'm sorry to hear that the same thing happened...I'm sorry to hear that the same thing happened to you. For me it hasn't been a shying away from the pain of losing something again...it has been about the loss of something that I cherished coupled with too much on my personal plate. Movement forward = yay! :)Tanya Anguitahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10261534304962274441noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4285458481178083056.post-70078330658270290452011-06-28T17:03:41.842-07:002011-06-28T17:03:41.842-07:00Exactly the same thing happened to me. A long blo...Exactly the same thing happened to me. A long blog, much work, lost by blogspot. That stunned feeling, the remorse, even shame that runs through me at a time like that is so painful that I can hardly bear it. I think it's the pain that makes it hard to recover your muse. You have to experience it anew each time you think of it and your innermost being shies away, "No! Not again! I can't feel that pain!" But what you've done here, to my great admiration, is walking through the pain instead of shying away from it. It lances the dark and sodden mass and lets some of it get out. It's recovery. Good for you. I'm Patrick and I'm a recovering non-backuper.Patrickhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07006426361463277965noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4285458481178083056.post-78391127673220032732011-06-28T15:56:06.336-07:002011-06-28T15:56:06.336-07:00Thank you so much, Glen. Truly. Such a great way ...Thank you so much, Glen. Truly. Such a great way to put that, so much kindness in your words, and such a great reminder. Huge hugs!Tanya Anguitahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10261534304962274441noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4285458481178083056.post-27095270274186446732011-06-28T15:54:11.994-07:002011-06-28T15:54:11.994-07:00Heh.. would you look at that... it would seem,...Heh.. would you look at that... it would seem, at least to me, that by talking about her, she returned and you didn't even know it. You just wrote brilliantly. Every moment of the actions and conversations were conveyed in your writing. I saw her.. she was standing behind you, right at that moment, holding your hands as you typed.. as a father would hold his son's hand while holding a bat for the first time. She may not always be there when you are looking, but I am pretty sure that she is acting like a parent.. who is helping their child ride a bike for the very first time without training wheels. They hold on tightly at first.. both hands with fear that you are about to fall, and they walk beside you as you build up speed. And then... they start to run, and while they do, they push you a little harder, only able to hold on to the back of the seat with one hand, until finally, they let go completely when you least expect it.. and you ride off on your own screaming: "I'M DOING IT!!! ALL BY MYSELF!!!" She is still around... I just saw her take one hand off of your seat.Glennoreply@blogger.com