There are times in life when it feels as though your back is completely against the wall, hope looks bleak and wasteful and your mind is clouded with all the possibilities of what could go wrong but the thought of what could go right completely absent. I’ve encountered a few of these moments in what feels like a very short amount of life. I lacked support I lacked in love and I most certainly lacked in determination to continue to fight each day. I had one thing that kept my demons at bay throughout my life and it always involved a pen and a paper. The therapeutic art of putting ink to paper, expressing emotions and words so freely forgetting them as soon as they were written. I could truly get lost there and leave the emotions as soon as they were written like shooting stars gently caressing the sky. Then one day it was silent. As though I had lost all the words, and while my mind busy, almost frantic , nothing could leave. There wasn’t a special color ink I could spread out and spark a glimpse of inspiration. I could no longer take the blues and paint oceans and skies that blend into a horizon of trust. Or spread reds that blaze like wildfires set by a single match. I couldn’t even read the yellows of a sunflower as it bathed in all the glory of a sun simply doing the bare minimum and shining. It was as if my heart took a nap while my mind ran in circles checking empty rooms searching for reasons why. The one thing I had, the only thing I’d ever loved that much, gone.

Yet somehow In the midst of it all, the ups and downs, the highs and the lows, I managed to catch a glimpse of peace. Making its rounds and allowing space for all who make the priority. An old phrase “the mind is a terrible thing to waste” circled around and fell off my lips. Dawning on me the age of an era where I could see the control and power of my words. Writing was never meant to be a task. But solely an outlet of expression and an experience of perception. How beautiful.