I’ve not been motivated to write for myself in so long, I thought I never would write about personal matters again. Did I lose interest? Did those years getting paid to write kill my joy? Is there nothing of passion or angst to keep me awake at night? Let me speak of pain or enlightenment. Dreams? Something?
I am content with silence.
If anything, let me speak in terms of nothingness. It is the way of the world I live. Once dust, so I shall be once again. Once I felt alone in this vast expanse of universe, trying to find meaning. I redefined my existence, and realized neither God nor Love are what others may try project on me, though they are one in the same.
God is Love.
The reasons I used to write for subsided. I found I have everything I need. I’m no longer compelled to talk, but to listen. I no longer feel like I need healing but to help others heal. My vulnerability has become my strength.
It took ten years, but its been almost ten since then. Twenty years and still improving. Every day became a battle for change . It’s ironic that sometimes the change we seek is to be more comfortable with who we think we are.
Spending energy creating a new inner narrative takes its toll. I lost some years. I took too little time to write. I made little effort to let anything soak in. My mission was to forgive and forget. My goal was to not care so much, not be so sensitive. My mantra was to just let go.
Just a before and after image.
No story to tell.
I find myself no longer pained to write because I have forgotten myself. From time to time, others ask where I’ve been. Sometimes I ask as well.
I’ve been here all along.
But I’m waking up in a new place, with a new perspective each day. Still learning. New depths of love are testing my spirit. Unbroken. New ideas are testing my mind. True. New work is testing my body. Sweaty.
A new reason for writing feels in order. I don’t want to tell stories. I want to make sure I still have a voice. It’s been a while since I explored myself. Let me do that a while.
I am pushing my limits past the critical juncture where taking care of myself is more important than taking one for the team, where letting go is as important as loving. There’s much work to be done, yet more need to make time for myself.
Fortunately for me, everything is holding together while approaching the speed of life. Whether by serendipity, luck or divine intervention, I’ve been blessed to find the kind of love, gratitude and perspective that keeps me balanced, grounded and driving on – for the time being.
And despite being content, I’ve got to write.