If there has ever been a time to write about our lives, maybe it’s today.
What curious peaks and crests we find ourselves sailing. Questions. Decisions. Restarts.
And if this is a time of turbulence, it is also one of creativity.
I’ve been through times in my life that left me searching and forced to recreate life from scratch in the past. During those times, I found myself in writing. I didn’t have a plan. I wasn’t trying to add on some new self-care regimen.
I just had to write. I literally felt my body drawn back to the pen and paper. Maybe it was just the thing I did to keep from being lost at sea during times of personal crisis.
But now? There has never been a more important time to write.
These days, it sometimes feels like we are all sharing a ride on these rough seas.
We are reinventing, recreating: You and I, the person sitting near you on the bus. The neighbor you cross paths with once in a while...
And like so many aspects of writing, maybe we begin because it helps us find meaning. Or because it lays something to rest. Or because it allows something to be reborn.
But then, on occasion, that writing that started as a furtive scribble in a journal somewhere turns into art: