because that is what it is like for me
a rush of light
i know this to be true:
i have something in me that has to get out
when i'm in the shower, it swirls
while I'm buttering toast, it builds
when I glance out the window and see the sparkle dancing off the weedy grass, it is born anew
when my boys blink or sigh or scream, blocks of ideas are lining themselves up in a row, trailing off into the nothingness
how do i catch it?
how do i do it justice?
how do i walk alongside it, hold its hand, listen?
the question that nags and pulls and hurts
why should i?
who am i to think i have something to say that anyone wants to hear?
how very pompous of me to think that i have something different to say
different than the gazillion others that blog and tweet and...
haven't i found it to be true
when unleashed and untethered and unbridled
this keyboard becomes like the Holy Spirit
channeling my moans and groans
into words that tell stories and reveal grace and truth and light?
because how could i not do it?
how can i not embrace the joy
its as if i'm having a conversation with the void, hoping and praying that its echo will reveal answers and wisdom untold
i guess i will keep writing
whether or not you are listening.
“Writing is a process in which we discover what lives in us. The deepest satisfaction of writing is precisely that it opens up new spaces within us of which we were not aware before we started to write. To write is to embark on a journey whose final destination we do not know. Thus, writing requires a real act of trust. We have to say to ourselves: ‘I do not yet know what I carry in my heart, but I trust that it will emerge as I write.’ Writing is like giving away the few loaves and fishes one has, trusting that they will multiply in the giving. Once we dare to “give away” on paper the few thoughts that come to us, we start discovering how much is hidden underneath these thoughts and gradually come in touch with our own riches.”