Writing. It is perhaps my first love. Before I wanted to swim in the oceans deeply, before I yearned to travel the globe and long before I began my journey into transpersonal therapy… Writing a short and simple poem was the first most deeply satisfying thing I did.
Many people harass or encourage me that my writing is good. Excellent even. That I should be doing more of it. There is a large part of me that is resistant to writing for others enjoyment. It’s such an intrinsically personal thing, and above all else my writing is honest and reveals a lot about me. That is what I both love most and struggle with most.
“You should write a blog..” Why should I write a blog? I’ve heard it so many times. You. Should. Write. More. From friends and family and strangers. Not to mention that little nagging voice on the surface of my mind. You. Should. Write. More. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Don’t tell me how to express myself. Certainly don’t ask to read my writing. It’s rude.
There was a time when I would introduce myself as a writer. As I’ve grown a little older it’s been nice to step away from that and enjoy the many layers below my love of writing. For we humans are multi faceted and will be and do, so very many things before we die.
“If I write what I feel, it’s to reduce the fever of feeling. What I confess is unimportant, because everything is unimportant.”
Fernando Pessoa, The Book of Disquiet