My facebook post from this morning-
"Sometimes I honestly have nothing to say. Out loud anyway."
I have been gently admonished lately for possibly putting too much of myself out here on my blog, meaning I share the really deep and painful stuff of my heart and memories with the entire world. Thus I feel strangely vulnerable most of the time, as though my emotional guts are on display permanently. The advice of my friend- to NOT put so much of myself out there...well, here...and instead let my heart speak through my fiction- was well spoken and healthy. I am trying to heed it.
Fiction writers can often brilliantly put their internal "stuff" into a character and share their hearts through that medium. It is honestly the best way if one is a fiction writer. The closest and cherished few in a fiction writer's life will get to hear everything- all the deep real painful wrestled things straight from the writer's memory and heart. But those deepest things should only be shared with the most trusted, as a general rule. Seems I have been living that rule all backwards upside down and getting unwanted emotional stress as the result. I am learning that the rule on its right side is where I must exist.
Truth- I have not created enough fiction yet to learn this skill well. But we all must start somewhere.
So I have a lot to say this morning, it is all simmering here inside me, movie reels in my brain, a thousand moments music notes melodies harmonies covering them all, printed words library book pages computer screens handwritten words all strong curved true, sun glimmering off cold waves crashing spinning, young me crying singing running twirling, daydreams boats farms towering trees quiet rain, reality of cold winter glimmering snow knifing wind... all these words, elegant words never saying enough, simple words saying too much...if I love you is that a fact or a weapon...all these violent and grief filled words pushing threatening drowning the pure with wrong wrong wrong, clear pure light-drenched newness turning midnight brilliant white, causes true beyond myself my abilities my words my resources my feebleness my selfishness...hope always hope.
So much inside of me right this second.
But I will not say any more than that out loud. There it is, a glimpse of my heart and mind and soul and memories. I will be a fiction writer today and use all these words words words for my stories. I will not waste what is inside me on things I am not called to do any longer. I believe in the power of story to convey truth. Hint- God does too. This is my purpose...to write stories. It begins.
Does that mean I am going to stop blogging? No. I will still share many thoughts passions epiphanies dreams and hopes through this blog. But I will be more selective in the future. My very cherished few will get all of my deepest stuff...or all I am capable of giving. Be glad- I will no longer burden you or me with my deep painful stuff that might not have meaning or purpose for either of us right now. Smile. This is freedom.
Stories bring us together. So does music. I will end with a song, its every word saying all I want to say today...journeying together into new starts new resolves new purpose...the passion of words and singing and playing conveying calling...we all have calling on our lives. Purpose. You know me...you know I must say it:
Find yours and live it today. And live it with as much passion as these British boys live theirs. It doesn't matter whether you care for their style of music...although I love it, it reminds me of The Pogues and my Irish ancestry and of my childhood home in the mountains of Virginia. Pay attention to the way they play...feel how much they love what they do. May I write with this much calling purpose passion today.
That's all. That's enough.
*Don't adjust your speakers, it takes a few seconds for the sound to come on.