I’ve been hearing the calling to write and that includes coming back home.  To my word haven.  To my blog.

I look back on previous posts, remembering I never wanted to write like “the cat in the hat”. But I can feel there was something missing. I was still holding words back. Hiding.  Finding my way. Finding my voice.  A way to put my melodramatic heart on the page.

But, in the last 12 months, I have been compelled to say out loud…

I AM A WRITER.

After reading Susannah Conway’s book “This I Know” and the posts that accompany the artwork of Orly Avineri and Erin Faith Allen, I know I can no longer hide.  I can no longer dabble in the shallows.  Speaking barely above a whisper for fear of being denied my space at the table.

And so, I will start over.  With brutal truths. With raw words so deeply bound in truth they take my breath away.  This is my space. I am declaring it.  I want to document the wholeness of my universe.

I am craving swimming out into the deep and diving under. More so than ever.

My art is aching for change.  For rawness.  Truth.  Realism.  For a brutality that I have no idea how to conjur.

My book, abandoned in doubt, is calling me back.  Demanding I finish what I started.  Telling me this is more important than I can understand right now.  That its a part of my unfolding.

My words and thoughts here are forever changed.  I hope you visit here and are forever changed too.