The Write Moment

I can remember pretending my pen was a magic wand when I was a child. I was well aware that I couldn’t really make anything disappear or multiply in number, but nonetheless, I had a knowing that what I held was a capable tool and it could make things happen. I felt secure if I had a pen: I could go somewhere else, could connect with a larger world, and always, I had a place to put things and a voice, a way to express myself in my own way, at my own pace.
I express it differently now that I am an adult, but the foundation is shared with my youth as far as why I continue to write, why I continue to feel better if I know that I have at least one pen and a pad of paper with me.
Writing is one way I push back with light when darkness encroaches. Word for me is very much alive and if it is alive, is has being-ness and things that “be” have energy and energy begets light. And, I believe that “light shines in the darkness and darkness will not overcome it.”
And that Word shines brightly when I use writing to voice, to summon forth, a truth that lies within me. Perhaps that truth is on a gentle wander and I might not yet be aware of its company, or perhaps it is a truth seeking its own release, a truth needing to be freed so I can either breathe more freely without the burden–a recognized anger, or resentment of old that has mossed over my heart, or embrace it, welcome it, accept it, understand it–and allow it to find its place within me among the other truths that abide in my being.
This might end up looking like a poem or a letter or or a journal. It might read like a story or a prayer or detailed observations of what I sense in a given moment on the space-time continuum…
Whatever the shape it takes, whatever the sound it makes, for me, writing loosens the clench of emotion, confusion, and the sometimes “too muchness,” allowing light to flow more freely so that I see more clearly all that surrounds within and without and recognize the face of God.

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