Meeting Mayden

I arrived on Saturday night, late. Exhausted and in disbelief. I'd known Mayden for nearly 10 years. And she'd known me, far better than most people in meat space know me. It's surreal, finding friends in the blogosphere. It's a knowledge gained only through writing, the language of the soul. And nothing more. There's no opportunity to fabricate any pre-conceived notions based on physical appearance or sound or scent. This affords a sort of x-ray vision of the heart, of the mind - it facilitates the ability to see past the all the detritus, all the masks we wear, to the real, to what animates the person. When you meet someone through their writing, you glimpse directly into their soul. 

Our writings contain qualities and characteristics that tell the story of our souls, like the way we walk, our comportment, the cadence of our voice all do. It fascinates me, this way of meeting people. And humbles me, too. Because it forces me to face how easily I can develop preconceived notions of people. How easy I did fall in love with someone, believing they were someone entirely different than in actuality. Surprisingly, I found that I still loved this someone, in spite of feeling misled: discovering their true identity seemed to right things for me in my mind, you know - make things make sense.

And then came Mayden. Complete WYSIWYG. A breath of fresh air. Because, you never know who's behind that blog persona, as I discovered somewhat ruefully. I definitely have a certain naïveté about me and confess that I've believed people too readily, welcomed their words as honest and true, when in fact they had not a lick of truth within them. So, Mayden. Her realness frightened me, at first. Me, who struggled to discover herself by changing blogger pseudonyms like I change my knickers. Me, who for a while became obsessed with self-transparency and also, being someone else entirely other than me. Parts of me used disbelief, suspicion and mistrust as a sort of carapace. 

Mayden presented herself without pretence. She loved, wholly. Despite the shadows in her own life. Despite the fact that she attempts to conceal and minimize them while they still cast themselves upon her. She maintained a steady presence all through the times when my life flickered wildly like a candle in the wind. And time passed, as only it can. And here am I, sitting on her bed, late at night, writing this post. And I have to say, thank you Blogger, thank you blogosphere. Thank you for being a web that draws people together - people whose paths would otherwise never cross. It has touched my life.