What I am thankful for? Right now, the joy of imagination. The incredible experience of seeing what others cannot. I don’t think we writers understand how beautiful it is to be misunderstood. Just because we don’t see things the same way doesn’t mean we aren’t seeing. Another blog I was reading today reminded me of that. Her writing is lovely as well; here’s the post that inspired me, if you want to check it out (http://prayersoflight.blogspot.com/2011/11/world-of-dreamer_21.html#.TssiU1Zn2Ag).

But really, when people scrunch up their noses when you describe how winter smells, or if lines tug their foreheads when you say that a song sounds like a color, or when one picture erupts into glass shards that melt into a world in your mind, what do you think? Are you thankful that you can see the magic flitting behind each shape? There is something magical about the imagination, something svelte and radiant. And when I describe an emotion as a scene, while I might be the only one who can see it, I am thankful that I can see it.

Found this on Christine Lusk's Pinterest site of "Lovely Stained Glass." Check out more here: http://pinterest.com/christineann/lovely-stained-glass/

Writing, then, is the beautiful struggle to help others see it too. What do you see that others do not understand, yet they know that they long to behold? How often do you take your imagination for granted? I know I do, nearly every day. A great imagination is a gift, one that cannot be taught or given by man. It has the power to go beyond words, so that even the finest wordcrafting is insufficient except to describe a small corner of a cathedral, a marble chip that is glorious, but does not reflect the stained glass windows. I am thankful for the chance to see the windows, even if all I can describe is the pattern they illumine and spread on the floor.

In honor of Thanksgiving, I want to know, what are you thankful for?