Thinking about thinking, that is what I found myself doing that early morning, the rain was pounding down in a beautiful song coaxing my thoughts to rhythmically be drawn from my mind. The day before I had started a list of stories I wanted to tell, a book of stories I wanted to write, a list that grew to over 100. Stories that still repeat in my mind on a regular basis, stories that I have been re-telling but had not had enough time or energy to re-live or re-experience, and therefore they stagnated somewhere in my mind, leaching themselves onto and into the other parts of me. I knew it was the time to release them, to air them out; to re-connect with those moments and come to terms with them. It was time to write my narrative, time to reflect on my experiences, regain my sense of Self and to let go of what needed to be let go of and rejoice in the moments and experiences that have allowed me to re-invent myself as the strong independent woman I always dreamed I could be.
I may never fully understand why certain events of my past transpired or why I was motivated to do certain things but I knew I could now look at my experiences and give them their chance to speak and then hopefully put them back in a safe quiet place where they wouldn’t feel the need to rattle the walls and shake me up. Not all of my 100+ stories are of strife and pain, there are many joyous occasions that I reminisce about, actually the listing of my stories encouraged me to go into the sacred places of my mind and retrieve those positive moments to help create a balance, to use as touchstones during the re-living of the not-so-pleasant others.
And there in the early hours before the dawn, the rain stopped and I did it, I started. As I wrote my first story, happily lost in the glory and euphoria of writing, the day had broken through. I wouldn’t say that the sun was shining yet, but the sky was waking up. I was waking up. It felt like I was doing what I was supposed to do.
I may struggle some mornings before my first sip of coffee, but the connection I feel to my Self in those moments of bliss as I write, have helped me to overcome self-doubt and my negative inner-critic (Bertha). Those moments in the mornings, where I find truth in my experiences, allow me to hold on to the positive energy created to and give myself permission to allow that positive energy to permeate my thoughts and therefore my actions.
I think that early morning when I first went to the page and found the inspiration needed to just start, I may have actually ignited the last leg of my journey to live undivided, uncompartmentalized and whole. My path had been lit, not that I can see the end, because there is never truly an end, but there is hope that the pieces of myself will come together and that my purpose and what I hold dear will align through my writing. I believe I am synergistic, that I am greater than the sum of my parts, and I want my legacy to be that I lived well and learned all I could, that others truly knew me and loved me as I loved them. I want my writing to be of service to others by being of service to myself.