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.
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