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Louis, a high school buddy and FB friend, wrote that statement as a reflection of his own blogging experience. I read it early this morning, during my I-can’t-sleep-tonight stirrings (a lot on my mind), and it has relentlessly stuck ever since. The use of writing as a paving of a road, traveling it as you lay it brick by brick, resonates. Maybe because it feels like a promise I can keep, if I just commit to granting myself permission to travel.
I am writing a book of poetry, my first, and it has been a hard sail. And sale. In the beginning, the words and their assembly flowed and down into the computer. Like water down plate. These poems I had written over the span of two decades, so they were familiar, but then the writing starting getting harder. Some of these topics mirror back hard reflections. Some of these topics require me to learn more than I know. Some of these topics are unapologetic in demanding a fearlessness in writin that I am just developing. It’s feeling now like I am taking a fork to a mountain. I’m still standing, scraping. But committing to staying in the moment, relentless, is hard too.
Just weeks before, a great colleague, Mary, gave me homework–to start a Twitter account and to start blogging. Ugh. That was hard. Staring into blank space, reading the great things others wrote and wondering if I could measure up, stepping out into cyberspace and into who knows whose minds, unchartered territories I was reluctant to sail. But then I started writing, writing about things I believe in and hold true to me. About topics I feel passionate about. Education and writing. Mary shared with me her process and rationale, and in her honesty I felt possibility. That the writing is doable. Writing helps you unfold page by page that which you are trying to understand.
And so, coming back to Louis’s reflection, I am writing, often, as much as possible, to get in and under what I think. Explore it relentlessly. To not wait holding breath until masterpiece is present, but to build and build and bring and bring it to fruition myself. Two published writers I admire, Carla and Miles, encourage me to keep going. That my words are necessary, that they have something to say and share, and their breath in the world makes a difference in the world. So, the integration of these four people and their wisdom in risk-taking give me inspiration-to reach in and pull spirit out.
So, I reach again for my fork, hold it up to the mountain, and take pride in the chisel and scraps that fall. They show me where I started, and that I am on a journey to get THERE. Writing as a journey into the destination of . . .