I’m trying to find my way back to the reflective writer I once was.
Funny thing is, she seems like another lifetime ago. I search for her in memories and imagine a woman who rose every morning to write. Yes, I sigh, she vaguely resembles someone I used to know but now aspire to become, once again.
Her tenacity tantalizes me. Her persistence pushes me. Her devotion delivers me.
So if the writer I once was had such an impact on me, then why did I leave her behind until her memory blurs like a woman in the mist?
Oh, I could blame several things for this distance between us; all justifiable tasks that crowded life spaces: adjustments to a retirement, once-in-a-lifetime family events, the purchase and renovation of a home, a growing passion to paint.
Sure, I can still see these reasons clearly and argue as to why, most mornings, I put down my pen, but her truth still calls to me from the mist:
And even though the message returns, I’ve argued this point profusely, “Really, Lord, who cares what I pen?”
Then God sends encouragement my way through the wise words of a friend, TJ Patton:
“…you write and leave people thinking, it is what is in you, that a lot of us think about.”
And once again, truth melts away resistance until the original reasons I write return to mind:
- For self-reflection
- To process thoughts, feelings, and life decisions
- To release the madness that mounts in my mind
- To encourage others who go through similar experiences
Yes, I smile; I began to write because to not do so would have surely resulted in my undoing, and so I must continue to write as a form of self-health.
As I scribble thoughts on to paper, I remember the most important reason I write:
Yes, writing forms a divine romance between the Eternal Spirit and my finite soul.
Writing leads me into realms of wisdom and understanding I could never venture into, let alone discover, alone.
Writing pours life direction through my pen.
The part of the world in which I work makes more sense when I write.
The part of myself I want to quarantine away from others becomes clearer when I write.
The part of my writing I want to share with others forms blog posts and manuscript pages when I write.
As I write my way back, I know I’ll encounter resistance. The seemingly urgent will threaten to fill my life spaces, and so I will have to work harder to carve out consistent writing time.
I wonder how many other writers are trying to return to their authentic writer’s self. Perhaps there are many that share my struggle to persist. So to you, my dear writer friends, I pass on a Ray Bradbury quote that my daughter, Elya (an aspiring novelist), posted on her Facebook page:
I say “persist!” Together we can do this!