My Soul, The Writer..
For many years my restless spirit has been crying out to express itself, yet it speaks not with boastful nor brash words shouted from the roof tops. It whispers with a higher, more conscious & meaningful voice.
On an ordinary day I sit considering my soul, what is it that it yearns for? I feel a wave of confusion, accompanied by flutter of excitement, so I reach for pen & paper. As I stare onto the vastness & blankness of the crisp white pages, the cogs of my clogged up mind begin to unhinge.
This unfamiliar emptiness creates space. . .
Then awareness touches upon an ancient dwelling place within me. It has been silently waiting for its instrument, the pen. In this moment I realise that my soul recognises how to express itself.
My heart flutters, the energy builds, I dive into a slipstream, there can be no interruption, no breaks in the waves, I am immersed, hooked, captivated & I lose myself. As I swim around in a vast sea of thoughts, ideas, emotions, imagination, experience & memory, a seamless flow of words appear & I set sail on a journey.
The script has not been given to me, I have not reached outside of myself to find it, my soul chooses this from within & desires for it to be true.
This place I write from is neither here nor there, it does not reside within my immediate thoughts, yet it is still familiar & yearns to be heard from deep within. Maybe this is what I have been searching for?. . .this bubbling treasure chest of tales that is now opening to reveal a wisdom, which senses purpose.
My words flow from a place where they have permission to break free onto the sandy shores, to touch the feet & the lives of others. It is here I feel connected with my soul, the writer.