When Tolstoy finished his great novel War and Peace, he was exhausted. For months he had poured his heart and soul into the manuscript. Ernest Edward Smith argued Tolstoy was threatened with a severe nervous breakdown. One day a friend laid hold of his arm and took him to task: “You are a man of means, a Russian Count, a wealthy landowner with servants at your beck and call. Your future is secure. Why must you write books and drive yourself to the verge of insanity?”
Tolstoy thought a full two minutes and then replied: “I am a slave of an inner compulsion. I have a consuming fire in my bones. I have to write or else go mad.”
When I read this I realized Tolstoy was in love with writing.
For you see, when we love, we are yoked to whomever or whatever we love. Real love is an inner compulsion, a consuming fire in our bones, and we have to express it meaningfully or else go mad.
This blog has taken various shapes over the past five years. It is time for it to change again. Reg Presley wrote a song The Troggs recorded years ago. It’s called Love Is All Around.
I feel it in my fingers
I feel it in my toes
The love that’s all around me
And so the feeling grows
If you can relate to the sentiments of this song, if you are in love and have a consuming fire raging within you, we hope you will write and submit your love letter to us. We will do our best to post it here so others can read and celebrate with you. Go ahead. Express yourself. Write a love letter for others to read. We will all be made stronger for it.
Cliff Houston and Jennifer Hartman
© 2020 Scattered Love Letters