Why Do I Write?

Why Do I Write?

Let me see, I love yakking it up–or yukking it up, whichever tickles my toes at any moment.

I love sharing a belly laugh with friends.  Sipping virtual coffee or tea and enjoying the musings of my tribe as we slowly start waking up–or at least showing signs of life from across the invisible divide.

Why Do I Write?

My mind is a sponge dedicated to the observance of all around me. When I go strolling in the woods, my ears are attuned to the sweet vision of bumble bees. My eyes meditate on the silence of the douglas fir and mighty sequoia, both in their eternal standing ovations and in the lovely carpet of green and brown needles, they lay at my feet.

Why Do I Write?

I am on a mission. Can I reach my goal? Yes, I can. It just won’t be measurable by the standard means. I am sharing my true life story because it is my hope that it will help someone.

Also, perhaps the biggest of all, I am a living, breathing success story. I am not special, but I want to be a beacon of hope for those dealing with depression, abuse or violence of any kind, or trying to beat their seemingly hopeless legacy. With much help, I am alive today, enjoying life, and in a position to share what I have learned. So be it.

Why Do I Write?

Putting words to paper is like magic to me. Writing elicits laughter, tears, and pensive faces. It is the only way I have to express my inner life, which was once the only residence I had. It expanded my world to include every continent. Writing has branded my lips and soul with the power of speaking freely and openly about my truth.