Skip to content

Digging for Treasure: X marks the Start

*click play for Read-along*

I wish I could just close my eyes and write. I mean, I can…but then my words would look a little something like this ….

pretending to write

Let me rephrase…I wish I could close my eyes and what I feel, think, am would just float onto the screen (or paper) effortlessly. With ease. Without filter or edits or perfectionistic peskiness. I’ve been a slave to the rules of my thoughts, my notions constrained to the depths of my being.

I wish I could write again. Like before. When the description of Bieber’s muscles, taut or tight, had my pen bazing. When my heart bled ink and the keys were my type. Before Cognizance.

Somewhere between waking up and paying attention, this Stella lost her grove.

taylorswiftbaddancer

In college, I studied Linguistics; practiced writing and rhetoric; and forgot my voice. I took on many personas: Danny, the scholar. the Linguist. the writer. Danny, the glamgirl. the fantasy and jetsetter (aka Samantha). Yet, I never boarded the plane. Danny, the Dreamer. the Belieber. the hot ass mess, authentic and raw and ferocious—She was left behind, traded off the team, sold.

I’ve written much in the past four years and taken on many different roles, too: Content and social media manager, editorial and creative designer, life skills copywriter, one-hit lifestyle blogger, creative writing student, writing minor, writing tutor, linguistic researcher, literacy specialist…all just titles. all lackluster. Granted, I’ve gained lots of experience and knowledge and added heaps to my character and repertoire; but at what cost? I’ve been living with half a heart. Disconnected from my truth. Dissociated from my reality. And boy, have I suffered! Writing is my gift and I lost touch with the reciprocal power of receiving an offering from above. A rich endowment, granting a rightful pride with sight of a promising purpose. A blessing. Blocked by my own misunderstandings of what I thought I understood. No, I am not limited to writing. I am destined.

wonderwoman

I had a breakthrough as I “brainstormed” for this blog post. I love Justin Bieber, I love Love, I love god, I love me (*in no particular order 🙄, ha!)…. And by the end of my rambles, I was itching to write because I realized that I’ve been digging, for 4 years; looking for the coal I knew I’d find blocking the gems. Digging so deep. Searching so hard. For what was right in front of me. I was the Grinch who stole Christmas, exchanging a gift for coal by boxing myself in and capping my own voice. I’d been standing in my own way, ***perpetuating limiting perceptions of Who I thought I knew I was—minimized to Just a writer.

I am a FISH; fluid and flowing. I have no thematic sense of being or writing. There is no set in stone style or way for me. I am an alchemist and can be caught dabbling in everything from A-Z. I am a visionary who strays away from the Tried & True in lieu of Discovery & Destiny. An honest lunatic who plays & creates & dances & twirls in Words. Knowledge. Enigmas. Systems. And sure, I’m also a Writer, an artist: A painter of words, an architect of semantics, a composer of language, a lyrical Lover living to find use of a god-given gift.

& I’ve found that I’d been chasing the X’s only to realize I already held the why’s. Why, I’m messy energy…I just do because I am.

marilyn

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: