All the seasons I have traversed through have left imprints on my soul. And each one that follows is familiar and comforting. The sun’s kiss, the leaves’ rustle, the pristine snowfall, the song birds’ return. Each one lovely in its time. Years I spent living with a ticking timepiece in the background. Round and round we go, unsure of the number of remaining rotations.
Each season has its celebrations to enjoy, occasions to love, and milestones to mark. In that predictability, we can linger in the joys. Linger as much as possible as time continues forward, uncollectable. Smell the mud left behind from melting snow. Feel the brisk air on your cheeks. See the sunlight on the city streets casting shadows on the pavement. Taste the soups simmered as we linger in hibernation. Hear the call of your soul to best steer you toward the next season.
I know how far I have come, so I believe in how far I can go. If only, I can still time to intentionally sit in each moment, confidently setting the course for the next season. I can pause and rest in activity deliberate enough to free up the following day to live as I select. Work is evolving as I transition from a day job junkie to something more authentic and purposeful. Time is spent in creativity and optimistic possibility that I might dance ever so lightly as if to not disturb the time that keeps passing. As I sit in introspection writing, I grow in understanding of my faith here on earth.
My faith is tied to my spiritual practice of writing, though not all my work is spiritual in nature. Any and all creativity I have comes from a higher being who I see as an all-loving benevolent god, who I am comfortable referring to with the masculine pronouns. This hasn’t always been the case, but my writing is tied to my faith in way that one inspires the other symbiotically creating a result greater than its parts. I would not have the strength of faith to carry me if not for my writing practice. My writing practice would be flat if not for the flow states that I sometimes achieve like a runner gets a high.
In my coaching business, people ask me what is “authentic writing.” To me, creative authenticity is when you chase your assumptions of truth through your writing, trying to capture a moment in time for others to maybe read. It is an act of giving testimony to your interpretation and imagination. ...
An interesting thing happened to me recently while at the title company; the associate needed me to give my occupation. I stated, “writer.” She quickly followed up by asking what I write. I paused unsure how much to share. In that space, my realtor rescued me by saying, “She writes ...
