At its best, writing is cathartic. When words flow freely, they heal. They bind our wounds, smooth the rough edges of our souls, and ease our pain. Our eyes may be the windows to our souls, but the words we speak and write are the rhythm of our hearts. Words are especially revealing; not many people weigh their words before speaking, and thus we easily see who others are. In moments of clarity we even see who we are. The lovely Facebook saying "I always mean what I say. I may not mean to say it, but I always mean it." rings true to me.
I think I'm getting old. I'm thirty-nine, but if I were to stop coloring my hair, I'd probably look 50. I have three teenagers. I certainly don't believe that teenagers age us; if anything, I think they're fun and refreshing and, sometimes, amazingly hilarious. So, yes, I'm getting older. I'd like to think that I'm also getting wiser. My skin is thickening; I handle criticism a little better than I used to. My ability to speak succinctly and state exactly how I feel is also increasing. Simultaneously, my love for others is growing. I have worked long and hard to be able to listen without judging, I think I'm almost there. I can assess without condemning. I've become better at looking into people's hearts (and into their homes and their pasts) in order to understand them. Sure, I question others' choices, but overall, I love them and can look beyond what they do to who they are--all of which serves to make me more sure of who I am. And when I share how I feel or what I believe, I don't apologize. I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin. Though I'd feel terrible if I knew that my words cut someone, I also trust that others can see my true motives. So, while I do weigh my words, I also speak the truth.
But back to writing. When I write, I don't have to measure my words. I rarely write for anyone but myself, and I always have some sort of "fix" button. I certainly believe in editing; reading poorly written stuff is usually painful. But when I write, my primary concern is writing what I feel, saying what I need to say, and being able to re-read and re-clarify.
In high school, I wrote a lot of poems. They were all cathartic, all reflections of what I was thinking or feeling, but most weren't very good. It wasn't hard to throw them away a couple of years later. I also wrote a lot of essays. I loved searching for words that conveyed exactly what I meant. I guess even in writing, I say it like I see it.
Now, I'm old. My hair is grey. My life is obscenely busy. Finding time alone is a challenge; getting that time when I am not exhausted is really rare. But I still like to write. I am grateful for words and for all that they convey. I'm grateful that I'm not challenged to understand, read, write, or speak them. I'd miss them; they are my friends. And since I'm getting old, I need all the friends I can get.
www.sevenandersens.blogspot.com
I think I'm getting old. I'm thirty-nine, but if I were to stop coloring my hair, I'd probably look 50. I have three teenagers. I certainly don't believe that teenagers age us; if anything, I think they're fun and refreshing and, sometimes, amazingly hilarious. So, yes, I'm getting older. I'd like to think that I'm also getting wiser. My skin is thickening; I handle criticism a little better than I used to. My ability to speak succinctly and state exactly how I feel is also increasing. Simultaneously, my love for others is growing. I have worked long and hard to be able to listen without judging, I think I'm almost there. I can assess without condemning. I've become better at looking into people's hearts (and into their homes and their pasts) in order to understand them. Sure, I question others' choices, but overall, I love them and can look beyond what they do to who they are--all of which serves to make me more sure of who I am. And when I share how I feel or what I believe, I don't apologize. I'm pretty comfortable in my own skin. Though I'd feel terrible if I knew that my words cut someone, I also trust that others can see my true motives. So, while I do weigh my words, I also speak the truth.
But back to writing. When I write, I don't have to measure my words. I rarely write for anyone but myself, and I always have some sort of "fix" button. I certainly believe in editing; reading poorly written stuff is usually painful. But when I write, my primary concern is writing what I feel, saying what I need to say, and being able to re-read and re-clarify.
In high school, I wrote a lot of poems. They were all cathartic, all reflections of what I was thinking or feeling, but most weren't very good. It wasn't hard to throw them away a couple of years later. I also wrote a lot of essays. I loved searching for words that conveyed exactly what I meant. I guess even in writing, I say it like I see it.
Now, I'm old. My hair is grey. My life is obscenely busy. Finding time alone is a challenge; getting that time when I am not exhausted is really rare. But I still like to write. I am grateful for words and for all that they convey. I'm grateful that I'm not challenged to understand, read, write, or speak them. I'd miss them; they are my friends. And since I'm getting old, I need all the friends I can get.
www.sevenandersens.blogspot.com
I like that your kindness comes through.
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