Originally written in one part, I decided to split this post in two for ease of read. Part one is there.
“Writing is medicine.
It is an appropriate antidote to injury.
It is an appropriate companion for any difficult change.”
— Julia Cameron
Later on, life took me places I had never thought I’d go. I forgot all about writing. Family life started, and I failed to remember about reading. Years went by. Still had this deep urge for my soul to write. I’d try to keep journals, often falling short in my attempts. Collecting, instead of writing in them had now become my new favourite pastime. Life continued much the same until…
…My parents died, ten months apart from each other. I fell into the darkest of void, and came close to lose my mind. A vicious spinning cycle, I almost did not get out of. I was good at hiding my pain, became expert at swallowing my budding tears. I could not show anyone how deep my wounds were. Exhaustion took over. That’s when my heart broke.
Two bypasses later, I learned the hard way my body wanted attention. With the help of my doctors’ caring supervision, and lots of rest I’m on the way to recovery. Far from one hundred percent, I now listen to my heart. Reading and writing are back in my everyday life, with a vengeance. As if the decades I’d lost needed to be caught up with. A new ritual is emerging, one that heals me, in it writing takes place every morning.
Morning Pages are always first. Instead of swallowing my frustrations, my disappointments or my anger I commit them to paper. I am free to observe myself think, without judgement. Throughout the day I attempt to write at least 750/1000 words, if possible in one sitting. Not always successful, I understand it is to be expected. The unforeseen bonus of this new routine is how calmer I am within. A fresh sense of completion and peace of mind are some of the benefits of this new way to look at life.
Still seeing the world through a viewfinder an imaginary one this time, I memorize colours, smells, and sounds in order to painstakingly try and recreate them on paper. Choosing the right word takes effort, and work. I do not mind one bit. I’m home. The little girl within, the one I had forgotten comes to visit now and again. Using my words she now builds her castles in the imaginary world she lives in. She pushes me to follows my dreams.
So here I am doing just that.
How about you dear friends? What are your dreams? Do you follow them?