Writing

I am writing. Yes, me, writing. It's been a long time since I have unclogged my words and let them flow. I have always been a writer of emotion, I write what I feel. So, I started the old fashioned way, got out a notebook, my favorite pen and began.

Writing with ink and paper prevents the critical me to keep fine tuning and blocking the flow. When I type, I stare endlessly at the stark white page, freeze, delete, reword, correct and finally get two sentences. Whew! Not worth it.

So, I decided after some discussion with a fellow writer friend, to begin from scratch, no editing, just write. It's working, to my amazement. Not that I have gotten far, but that does not matter. I am pouring words out on a page and seeing an idea form, editing will come later.

I am not sure what direction I am headed, I have decided against a map, characters and no names to protect the innocent writer. I am creating. I am hungry for words, I am fighting my way out of the abyss of wordless existence and forging ahead. 

Today I read a quote by Woody Allen who once said. "80 percent of life is showing up". I like that, so I am showing up, what do I have to lose?

Teresa Gale

The Long Road to Joy

Joy has always seemed most elusive in my life, mainly because I am my own worst enemy, constantly dwelling on being responsible, serious, accountable in life. Being a Martha in life, when I should be a Mary sitting quiet at the feet of my Lord.

I feel a new season in my life approaching this old woman who wishes to find the girl inside screaming to be let out. I wish to play more, create more, write more and just live more. I do believe God wants us to be happy, to be full of joy. He did not create me to be so joyless.

My destiny is to create, to use my God given gifts to write, to reach beyond myself and to enjoy this life. My sometimes too intense emotions make me a prisoner in myself allowing fear to rule my soul. There has always been a deep need that requires my letting go of the fear.

I feel it today as I sit in my dads chair back home. His passing left a void in me that is irreplaceable. I tossed and turned last night in the room that was his, dreams haunting me. I dream of him often, now part of the background in those places, close by but just out of reach. He watches me, quietly And
I feel him telling me to "Move! Snap out of it!"

I have a jumble of words stuck in my head wanting to be releaed, yet I falter, stutter and stumble over them. How often do I allow fear to stifle my joy?  I am never to old to be childlike in life, to find that inner joy and peace I so crave. I am on the road to joy starting now, it may be rough ahead, but I have faith.  

I have signed up for a journaling course online to tap into my writing again. I step slowly through the words, sprinkling pages with short ideas and thoughts. It is a start. I am sure my dad would nod in agreement, "Start where you are, one foot in front of the other and don't stop moving. "

Teresa Gale