BACK LIKE I NEVER LEFT
The fact that as a writer you can put down the pen anytime, take a break and then randomly pick it up and flow effortlessly. That’s the beautiful thing about writing. I really love to write and the way it makes me feel. Then on the alternative there are days when I cannot seem to form more than a few sentences. It’s quite frustrating at times. What do you think is the cure for writer’s block? I’d say sometimes it’s just to simply stop caring so much about what others think. There are many critics, hell I am my own critic. I must learn to keep my voice alive, and not be persuaded by rejection.
The world now, has us trained to live like show monkeys; always performing. We live for likes, and the comments! I can tell you now, those are fleeting and do not define your abilities. If a post that I write does not reach a certain amount of people, does it make it less great? No! I believe that when I write from my heart, and out of pure inspiration; its gold. I don’t write as some chore. That in its own rite is a masterpiece. This is not arrogance, but understanding that we do not just write for others alone! We write because when we neglect to do it we feel a disruption. A disturbance of our peace, the urge to share, and communicate.
Some of my writings are actually not polished and as purposeful because as fast as inspiration comes, it also leaves quickly. It’s like a secret you are dying to tell your best friend or perhaps your journal! As of this moment, I am inspired by the beautiful sounds emitting from my computer speakers. It’s 1940s jazz melodies and a peaceful background accompanies these soothing tunes. I feel in sync with the artist, as if my typewriter’s producing some of these addicting melodies. Music has a way of really getting into my soul, lifting my thoughts. The clacking of keys pairs well with this aesthetic, it’s like that first sip of a good wine.
As someone who actually prefers to write with pen and paper, I bought this typewriter because of the deep satisfaction when you hear the keys being pressed. This typewriter is so beautiful, it’s the best thing that I have bought myself in a long time. I still remember the young girl who got a typewriter at ten years old. She would sit at her desk and write stories and dream of a life she could be proud of, and that girl is me. I wish I had gotten to keep my typewriter but out of spite, my daddy threw it away! He threw away all of my things, my journals, stories, and anything that represented me, because I left his house. I wanted to live with my mother and be with my little sister. That is a trauma for an other day. I still love my father, I know he was hurting too.
The feel of pen and paper are still my favorite, but this healed a part of me; getting another typewriter. It reminded me of a girl that always dreamed of getting a secretary job, writing stories and maybe publish a book. This moment remind me that my dreams are still alive, even though I pursue them differently than how I expected. My family knows that reading, writing, and books are me through and through. It feels good to be known for something. Writing brings people together, even if they don’t agree always on the topics.
As I think about last year, I realize that the more I pushed myself to make time for what I love, the more time that I seemed to have. Is that weird? It just felt like I was a more aware, confident, more content, version of myself. Yesterday, I sat and played Barbie’s with my daughter, I haven’t done that in some time. I find that fairytale play seems to have dwindled long ago. Yet that is where the magic is the imagination of a child. To connect with anyone is to first connect with your inner child. It brought back the fond memories of my sister and I playing like that together.
The healing process of grieving my sister, who is very much alive but chooses to distance herself from everyone. I could see it in my mind, us on the floor surrounded by all the Barbie accessories. I could practically taste the breakfast that our mom would often bring us, on those days. Oh how I miss my mom and sister, and it hurts so much the pain that has destroyed our relationships. This is something I cannot articulate in person, every time I try, I’am consumed with grief and cannot finish. The feeling of finality, but no closure is unbearable. Thus another reason that I write about it.
The art of writing, gives me courage to say what my heart feels. To love unashamedly, and without regret. To live with passion, in a cold world. I write to inspire a spark of humanly love and compassion that has strayed from the hearts of many. Bring back love letters, and postcards! Oh what a time to be alive!
My challenge to my fellow bloggers, NEVER stop writing, creating, sharing your stories, wisdom, and talents. Happy Reading!
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Sisters of Grace 