I should write every day. It’s like the window to my soul and the wise and generally wonderful part of me that as a lot to say but sometimes puts it away behind schedules and organisational mishaps and stress and pressure and “life”. Which, in all honesty can hardly be called living.
When I write I come alive, there so much to say – but it’s all the “right” stuff (not as in the “wrong and the right stuff” but as in the RIGHT stuff – finger click, loud orchestra starts in head “you got the right stuff , baby!”, envisage myself doing Michael Jackson style slide).
And so I’m not going to keep hiding behind the excuses (it’s cold in the morning, Miss 2.5 wakes up before me and I can’t find time or space, I’m so busy with other stuff, it’s just another thing to add to my to-do list….). Because it’s not an excuse, in fact it’s an honour to have something that opens you up to the greater part of yourself. I would have liked it to be singing, but I am a terrible singer, or dancing (like the dances’ I’ve choreographed in my head) or wild crazy artistry as big as a wall full of murals…but it’s not. My thing is writing, and in that there’s my music and my mojo and my moves and my murals.
So here’s my commitment to myself (which I’m doing as publicly as my not very public blog). I’m going to write every day. A little or lot. And I’ll post it here.