Doors Swing Wide Open

It may not seem so but writing for me is more than just words put in some coherent order.  It is an exercise in freedom--not only of expression but the sheer freedom of thought.  Always careful in my life with what I think and say, the writing sometimes opens doors to places I don't think I want to visit...
but it also frees doors to swing wide open to visit places I had long forgotten or finally know it is okay to explore.

When I write something to share (like the entries on this blog) I work hard to be concise.
Also I  hope that I am interesting enough that the reader not only enjoys my words, but thinks about what I have said in conjunction with their own life, and maybe will come back to visit me and my words again.  All this being said, the writing not only invigorates me but also drains me emotionally.
If I have done what I set out to do, when I publish my words, I am exhausted.

This week I worked hard to express my freedom by writing.  Everyday, I felt that I had exposed a little more of my soul and beside the feeling of exhilaration, I also realized that I was beginning to feel vulnerable.  Maybe it is because I finally admitted that I felt this was my calling from God.  There are those who would discount this idea in a heartbeat.  Maybe it is because when I write I don't think about what others think,  I just write.  For someone like me who is often concerned by others perceptions this is a real stretch for my psyche.  All I know for sure is that yesterday,  my attempt not only to follow my heart but also my commitment to God,  expressed itself in fatigue that I could not ignore.

At 330 pm, yesterday afternoon, I decided to take a nap.  This nap lasted five hours!  I went to bed again at my regular time and slept until after nine this morning.  I have slept over fourteen hours in less than twenty four.  And this sleep was full of nonsense, multi-colored dreams.  And I can not get these dreams out of my head.  I embrace the vision of my Grandfather and the memory of my mother, young and painting the walls.  I remember the house where I lived the longest in my childhood but now it had a secret room and the repairs that I need to do in the place where I now reside.  I ignored dark shadows but pursued anything that was surrounded by light.  It has been a unique experience, this active sleep,
but today I feel rested and more determined that ever to continue writing.

I share this because I want you to realize just how human and flawed I am.  I want you to know that like you I often feel vulnerable and insecure.  I also want you to know I take this business of God and his plan for my life very seriously, and that I must do whatever I must do to follow His guide. ..and sometimes it is not easy...and sometimes it manifests itself in a confession like this one...but it also can manifest itself in a poem, or an experience of daily life.  I do not know where my journey is going to take me but I hope with all my heart that you will choose to come with me.  A writer without a reader is a sad thing.  You are important to me.