Writing has fallen by the wayside. Again. What is a wayside? The edge of a road. My thoughts are a bit disjointed if you can’t tell. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve put pen to paper in my journal and I’m starting to feel the weight of it. All the thoughts and ideas that keep churning around without a place to put them.
I start another writing class tonight which is actually week two and I’ve been catching up on the material I missed last week. One of them was an essay by Terry Tempest Williams titled “Why I Write“. It’s a beautiful piece and it covers just about every reason to write and I nodded along as I read. “I write to quell the pain. I write to uncover. I write to meet my ghosts.” Yes, yes, yes. And also this: “I write because it is dangerous, a bloody risk, like love, to form the words, to say the words, to touch the source, to be touched, to reveal how vulnerable we are, how transient.”
Reading that made me miss writing and I wonder why I’ve left it for these few weeks. I suppose I let the busyness of life take over. School is in full force and the activities have me in a tizzy. Soccer, Cross-Country, Tae Kwon Do, Lacrosse. I was graced with a kid who wants to do everything and I’m finding it hard to reign him in. I don’t want to snuff out his youthful enthusiasm before he hits his stride.
But I also have to remember who I am and what I want because if I let it go too long I will forget. I signed up for class because I need to hold myself accountable. Left to my own devices I will let too much time pass before I return to writing. I’m always nervous about starting a new class but it’s a good nervous. It’s the energy of a new situation and getting out of my comfort zone. It’s exposing myself to ideas that will help my writing bloom and grow. It’s giving me a time and space to express myself. It’s giving me a place to be more me.