WRITE A BLOG – WHY BOTHER?
Storyteller, sage, stirrer of souls, spiritualist and overall humanity embracer. Former corporate exec “waking up” at midlife.
I write because I write. Because that’s what I do. Because I can’t sing, dance, act, play an instrument or draw for shit. Of course I CAN sing and I CAN dance. But that’s only after about seven glasses of wine. And I never, ever do karaoke.
I write because that’s what I do. Or at least what I did and am now doing again.
After my lifetime detour as a businesswoman in corporate America that is. After being a mommy and a bonafide breadwinner.
Before all that I wrote. So now after all that I’m writing again. I figured the desire got put in me for a reason. And it wasn’t going away. Even if the writing sucks, or even if it doesn’t the “desire” is still there.
I write because even when I was little I loved to. I loved how sentences and ideas would play ring around the rosy in my head, then magically find a coherent life on paper. Yes it was actual pen and paper then and the pen was my paintbrush and the paper was my blank canvas.
You see, when I write I can give life to “Something” from “Nothing” that then has permanence. What a concept. What a miracle.
I write because I think that souls touch souls through mediums and not just through the ether and I desperately want to touch another persons soul.
To cause even just one soul to think about something in a way they never had before, to ask a question they may never have asked, maybe even laugh. Or cry. To know they are not alone and that in fact we are far more alike and connected than not.
I write because it’s hard. To push myself because if I didn’t do something that required some effort and some angst, I’d sit around and watch The Bachelor and Real Housewives and (**update 2017 — and CNN and MSNBC and Trump, Trump, Trump) not much else. This way I can still watch it but also grow and feel I’m here for more than reality tv.
I write for you but I also write for me. It’s a way to make sense of my emotions when they overtake me. In those moments, my journal or the back of a napkin or a torn sheet from a spiral notebook becomes my therapist and most trusted friend. The one that will never, can never leave. The one that will stick with me no matter what. I can say anything to myself, even harsh words and come out okay in the other end. It beats eating potato chips for the same effect. Sometimes.
I write because I think I have stories worth telling. Doesn’t everyone though? So I write so I can tell theirs too.
I write because I want to be a vessel for God’s words, to be “used” in the only way I know how right now on this Earth and to use words to send the message that we are both human AND divine.
For some reason, I got given that this a message I need to spread. And say it in a way that can be heard. That’s the reason behind all the other reasons
That’s “why I bother”