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.