I walk and am surrounded by Words. I wake and am surrounded by…Words. I have always been surrounded by Words.When I was little I would watch the other kids play and I would form ..Words. Words became my friend. Books became my friend. My safe place when I felt not to speak to others. When I needed peace and quiet.I soon had to learn to differentiate between what were my thoughts and what were “stories” meaning Words I give life to.Thoughts are the hundred and one things that goes through my head..like – dont forget to grab some loo paper when you at the grocer or I wonder how my brothers, living out-of-town, are doing? What I will present in the meeting I am on my way to or whether the dress I am wearing looks good on me etc. Those “niggly” thoughts I call “chatter”.Stories are a compilation of that which is down-loaded into my heart. What I sense in my spirit and must write down immediately.For the past couple of weeks I found myself without a journal to write in. Writing on loose paper never works for me. And I now I have stories written on paper all over my home.Stories re-telling itself to me to be written when I wake but they are..scattered all over. It was alive at that moment but now it lingers. Sometimes it feels as if it is not for now and I let it linger like some future event that will be revealed through these words scrawled illegibly on paper.What am I waiting for I ask myself? Why am I not writing these stories? Why am I not consistent? Am I waiting for things to be perfect like getting the new journal and am I in waiting for perfection, not giving life to the message? I am upset with myself and I lose my spark. Oh how I hate losing my spark and all because I am now condemning myself saying…you should be more consistent! And this..Chatter prevents me from writing. From many things that should be given life to.To me its written. I gave birth to it. It is on my piece of paper on my desk or pieces of paper hidden in books I am reading but it\’s not given as a gift, a message to someone who might be willing to receive it and this is why I realize… I write. To give. To give a message of hope. To give life.I feel it is bursting through me. Sometimes for me. Sometimes for others…and sometimes for a future me.As I am writing I see a piece of paper on my desk. I reach for it and on it, it is written: “Write down clearly on clay tablets what I reveal to you, so that it can be read at a glance. Put it in writing, because it is not time yet for it to come true. It may seem slow in coming, but wait for it, it will certainly take place, and it will not be delayed.”Eleanor
I walk and am surrounded by Words. I wake and am surrounded by...Words. I have always been surrounded by Words.When I was little I would watch the other kids play and I would form ..Words. Words became my friend. Books became my friend. My safe place when I felt not to speak to others. When I needed peace and quiet.I soon had to learn to differentiate between what were my thoughts and what were "stories" meaning Words I give life to.
