I had no idea there was such a thing as a National Day on Writing. I don’t see cards commemorating it. Cards like, “You wrote today! Woo-hoo!”
Basically, I’ve learned to be by own cheerleader. I try to focus on how good I feel while writing, even when it is painfully hard rather than view counts or comments or publication. (Although I greatly appreciate all three!) They just can’t be the things that drive my writing.
So, what does drive it? What is the answer to the age old question: why do I write?
I’ve asked myself this many time saver the years. Here’s the answer today.
Thank you. You’ve been there for me when I haven’t been able to be there for you. You are patient when I am not patient with myself. You show me compassion when I am unable to show it to myself. You show me truths that I would rather hide from.
You allow me to vent and give voice to thoughts and feelings I would rather stay silent on. Thoughts and feelings I wasn’t even aware existed.
You allow me to pull energy out of me through words, burning them, releasing the hold they had on me, releasing what no longer serves me, creating space for the new.
You connect me to myself, my soul, my past and future and this particular moment. Each word etches this precise moment, of who I am in this moment.
You connect me to the world around me. The winds that whispers against me as I write these words. The lake reflecting the brilliant fire of autumn all around me.
You connect me to other minds. Other hearts. Others souls. You are that thread stitching us all together.
You give me space to discover what I think and what I don’t think.
What I know and what I don’t know.
What I believe and don’t believe.
What I trust and don’t trust.
What I value, what I don’t value.
What I can imagine and what I can never imagine.
You show the light and the dark in myself, in others, in the world and help me make sense of it all.
You’ve become an essential part of who I am and I can’t imagine life without you.