My writing reminds me of “Forest Gump’s running.” For those who are not familiar with the movie, Forest learned to run as a youth to escape his tormentors. My favorite line is when his childhood friend screams, “Run Forest run!” Later in life, Forest ran to deal with the pain of loosing his childhood love. He ran, and ran, and ran some more.
I began writing in journals at the age of twenty. I still have that first journal thirty years later. I learned to write for processing feelings and fears during my recovery years. Like Forest, I needed to escape my tormentors; emotional and mental distress due to codependency and a failed marriage. Throughout life, writing released inner tension and helped me to work on controlling the only person I could, me.
Four years ago, I began writing every morning. Then I wrote, and I wrote, and I wrote some more. Like Forest, I did not know where I was writing to but only what I was writing from. I wanted to be simple-minded and open to any adventure. I never dreamt that writing would become a life focus. I cannot think of any solitary artistic activity I enjoy more (although I sure have some runner–ups lately).
At the end of the movie, Forest sits on a bench as a feather blows up into the air from where he is. The viewer understands how fate is much like that feather—not planned but easily embraced if we have a heart like Forest.
A few weeks ago, I found a feather in my classroom that no student claimed. It reminds me to float with destiny’s breezes.