A few weeks ago at one of my writer’s meetings I spoke about my fascination with this language of ours.
How someone can string together just the right letters into such eloquent combinations that they etch themselves upon my heart. And while the message may be said in so many other ways, it is this manner that takes hold and embeds itself.
That for me is the beauty of language. When a torrent of words erupt from the heart with such intensity, their meaning touching the core of your being and like a key, unlocking a deep understanding of something that you had never thought was there. That moment of expansion, of seeing something in a whole new light simply but a string of words that have offered up.
I shared with the group when I challenged myself to grow and expand. Of when I went from saying ‘I love to write’ to telling people ‘I am a writer’.
For those of you who have gone through this transition you’ll understand my meaning.
In order to get to this point though, I had to deal with some deep issues. I had to take responsibility for my life and how I had lived it. I threw the gate wide open this time letting all the pain, inadequacies and fears rise to the surface in a rather dramatic storm of emotion.
The onslaught was riotous at times but grow and expand I most certainly did.
As the first wave of emotions settled a clarity emerged. I discovered that I had simply broken the surface of this thing and that this was now a lifelong commitment.
And I want to tell stories. I want the pen to dance across the page transforming the thoughts that move through me. Not every thought will compel. Far from it. Many will slip to the surface and evaporate. Some will surface and sink back down, a little too immature to be processed at this time.
I want to be around a long time to do this. Let it be so.