It’s interesting that I only have inspiration to write in the intensity of life’s moments.
When emotions overflow my present, I find myself pouring my affections into writing during tireless, sleepless nights.
When I am oh so very sad, I write of the cold, dark ocean and it’s piercing deceptions. When I am drowning in love for another being, I write of a summer night, submerged in warm summer breezes and soft, tender lips. And when I feel alone, there are a million words that spill from my heart and into my trembling fingertips.
When I think back at the course of my writing career, I have always found it easier to express how I feel when the answer is very clear and the emotion is undeniable; when anxiety is all I feel as I lay in bed and when excitement bolts through me as I start a new venture.
What I fail to notice is beauty in the mundane.
I forget that life is composed of one day after another; one simple task first, then another, then the next. Not always do I feel the intensity of simply being, and not always do I appreciate or write about the tranquility of life.
My life has taken several turns this past year, and as 2022 is wrapping its final moments, I can say that for the first time in the past two years the primary thing I feel is serenity.
Stillness softly wraps my heart and mind, and I am okay.
This constant feeling of a calm mind is foreign to me, but I do not want to make it go unappreciated. I don’t want to make myself go unappreciated.
It’s been a very difficult and life-changing year, and for once I am serene. I want to write about this new phase in my life too. I want to remember in 10 years what I am feeling in this moment.
I don’t want to neglect how far along I’ve come, and how at peace I am with myself and with the world surrounding me.