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When I write, I ache, I know, I don’t know, I can, I can’t, and then there’s . . .
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Exercise #1 – from “What We Ache For: Creativity and the Unfolding of Your Soul” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

When I write I feel honest.
When I write I see the truth.
When I write I discover myself.
I ache for the feeling of completeness.

When I write I feel connected to my emotional core.
When I write I see the places that I’m afraid to visit.
When I write I discover roads that I didn’t know were there.
I ache for firm footing.

When I write I feel vulnerable.
When I write I see the many layers of life.
When I write I discover newness and oldness holding each other tight.
I ache for loving arms that hold the new and the old in an enduring embrace.

When I write I feel the touch of a larger world.
When I write I see a horizon that is otherwise obscured.
When I write I discover the secret to the maze.
I ache for the belief that all those right turns will truly set me free.

I write because I can, because it is my truth, my touchstone, my attempt to live a life that is not about skimming the surface. I write because I am not content to stay in shallow water, only wading to my knees, feeling the temperature of the water, but nothing more.  I write because I am a person who needs a connection, if not with people, then let it be with words. I write because I must, because if I don’t, I cease to be and the world around me becomes small. I never wanted life to be small and limited.  I write so that my world can be large and limitless and filled with possibility. I write in order to dive deep, to feel the current, to do something other than tread water.

I don’t know the difference between good and bad.
I don’t know how to deny and turn my back on all the things in between good and bad.
I don’t know if there is such a thing as an unbroken promise.
I can forgive almost anything if it comes from truthful and loving lips.
I can’t forgive the silence that is slipped to me like arsenic, knowing it will cause a quick and certain death.
There are always enough excuses to exonerate the missteps.
There’s never enough courage to say what is true.

I don’t know the place where I am.
I don’t know how to forget.
I don’t know if remembering is a punishment or a gift.
I can forgive the fact that I’ve lost the map, that I’m lousy at orienteering, and that I’ve overshot my destination.
I can’t forgive being abandoned or those who pretend I am strong enough to figure it out alone.
There’s always enough advice.
There’s never enough direction.

© Kelly Tweeddale 2012

 

Comments
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Kelly, This is a lovely

Kelly,

This is a lovely exercise, and my favorite line is this:

"I write because I can, because it is my truth, my touchstone, my attempt to live a life that is not about skimming the surface."

I couldn't agree more!

Annette

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Thanks.

I found I needed some perspective other than my own to keep me on the writing path.  I also wanted to tell you that I read your post on anticipating the departure of your son.  Poignant and truthful.  Keep writing.

Kelly

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I cease to be....

I particularly liked: "I write because I must, because if I don’t, I cease to be and the world around me becomes small. I never wanted life to be small and limited. I write so that my world can be large and limitless and filled with possibility."  Liked your post, Kelly.  Many of us MUST write.  It is like breathing to some of us.  Keep explaining and helping us continue.

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Some once told me. . .

To write from truth is like going out your front door naked.  I also like to think that it gives you a sheltering robe from the elements.  One thing I know, writing is not an option for many of us, it is how we make sense of the world. Thanks for your encouragement.

Kelly