Pouring the Heart Out to See the Soul Fly
Reflections of my reasons for writing
I write to breathe meaning into my life. To honor the words swirling inside my head, spilling from my heart, gushing from my soul too heavy to speak — taking up so much space inside my head I feel it might explode or implode.
With no idea of the depth of waters promising to swallow me whole, I wanted to swim — not drown in the shallow or deep end of sorrow. For the first time, I put my heart on my sleeve for the world to see.
On the precipice of the unknown, I stood at the intersection of a global crisis and mom’s journey with Alzheimer’s each raging from its own flame. Simultaneous experiences pushing me to an edge of myself I’d never seen. Both stretching, expanding my mind, and strengthening my resolve to begin anew with each sunrise. There was no other choice — I had to write.
I never kept a diary as a kid, although I should have because until now all the childhood trauma has lived in the deep crevices of my brain. Afraid of my vulnerability — I feared exposing myself to me and a mother, oblivious to the pain hidden behind the ornate mask of a child.
I’ve learned as a writer there isn’t any other way to tap into the core of personal authenticity. It feels like my essence is liquefying, creating a safe path through the cracks in my soul, seeping out through my veins. With each thrush to the surface, liberating my spirit.
There’s no way I can write without exposing myself, even when I’m not the subject. I write from my heart — things I’m passionate about in a world engulfed in a constant spin cycle where words can imprison the mind or set it free.
How can one write without exposing their true self? What would be the point? Thoughts on paper show who you are, no matter the subject. If a writer can’t break through the message, no one would read his/her writing.
I’m not writing for the game or hustle. I’m writing to honor the giver who tucked the gift inside my being — to spread the love or the words that resonate with souls who need to hear me. My writer’s journey is off the beaten path. I write for the love of writing. To understand where I’ve been — how it relates to where I’m going.
We all write for different reasons. It seems I’ve done everything opposite of the accepted writerly rules for reaching the pinnacle of success. Yet, I am encouraged by the success I never imagined, achieved despite my self-guided detours.
I don’t rise at dark thirty in the morning to dive into deep cool waters of flow, nor do I publish daily. I can write as easily in a noisy room with a TV blaring as well as in the still of daybreak before birds have one eye opened.
When the spirit hits me, I write. If time escapes me, I don’t admonish myself for not stealing moments to pen my thoughts and I don’t feel pressure to compete with anyone but myself. I’m grateful for this community of writers who read and readers who don’t write. If any of my words resonate with one reader — I feel rewarded.
My reasons for writing may differ from other writers, but we’re the same in our thought processes. We think it’s important to share our diversity, internal dialogue, musings, and opinions.
All brilliant colors adding spark to the mosaic of a collective spirit. The oneness we know exists in our universe where time tricks us into missing the deeper meaning of “all for one and one for all.”
Being true to yourself really means being true to all the complexities of the human spirit. ~ Rita Dove