Why I write….

Writer. Thinker. Lover. Friend. Brother. Student. Cook. Nurse. Counselor. Mentor. Teacher.

Have you thought about how multi-faceted you are? You are more than what you do of course. But through listing the titles of things you do, you begin to see that you are much more than you think you are. You’re not in a box. You’re not just a 19 year old. You’re not just a boy, girl, dog, spider. Challenge yourself to see beyond what you think you are; what you think your life is; what you think the world is; what you think God is.

Ask ask ask. Listen listen listen. Seek seek seek. Take action. Move. Follow your nose. Become quiet. Get loud. Laugh. Cry. Scream. Rejoice. Life is as deep as you take it. How willing are you to dive in and seek the living truth and live it? To me, this is a thrilling and profoundly challenging life work.

I am unconsciously asking myself that same question (“How willing am I to dive in and seek the living truth and live it?”) every time I write. To me, writing is about discovery, expansion, depth, release, learning, gratitude, healing, prayer and scaring yourself. Writing to me is always an act of courage. It is an activity produced automatically by listening, and being willing to record what you hear. The comma after “listening” is intentional. Taking a breath, inspiring, pausing in it, are essential to a writer, to me. It is the vestibule in which I have the pleasure and delightful horror of seeing creation. I say horror in terms of “awesome”. When the concept of who you are and what the world is expands, I have learned that you had better be ready to follow.

As I write, I learn continuously more and more about what it means to serve my community, humanity, my world, through my gift. Art inspires, uplifts, cautions, heals, exposes injustice, brings worlds and nations, individuals and families, together. It is not personal. I see it as a responsibility to always be asking myself: “Am I writing ‘truth’? Am I serving through my work, or am I at all letting it become a brackish ditch of self-absorption?” Art is dead that is not honest and selfless. I strive to be honest. Humble. A listener. A courageous warrior. A child. And thus, I write! I love my life.


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