WriteABookMyFriend.

8.1.15

I don’t enjoy confessing to people I dream of writing a book. It’s too daunting. The weight of those words haunt me. I would love to spend my days sitting on a bench or on the floor of an empty book store, hoarding books and stacking them up against the side of my hips, watching them accumulate and feeling comforted by the author’s and their stories. In fact, I do this. More often than I should.

It’s safe there. No one is judging my words, my story, my rhetoric, my ability to convey information and emotion in such a way that is both riveting and relatable. I can sit silently and skip or pause and reflect when I would like to. I get to cross out and underline words when my heart starts beating a bit faster, and again when it slows back down.

The idea of gently setting my words in the hands of strangers is petrifying. What if they drop them. What if they can’t see me. What if they don’t understand.

Too many times, my head darts to even worse inclinations: My hands are too small. My arms are too weak. My shoulders can’t carry the weight.

But what if I can. What if my small hands are able enough. What if my weak arms endure. What if my shoulders are broader than I believe them to be.

I’ve heard it been said, “The only thing scarier than accomplishing your goal, is never beginning to try.”

Today, on a bench in Gearhart, Oregon, while overlooking the ocean and obsessively underlining, If You Find This Letter, I flipped to the front of the book, stared down at a pasty white blank page, and began to write my story. The blue ink now scribbled down before me reads,

Awake: Seeking Less in a World Desiring More

“At some point, I started to realize I needed to trust the beating of my own heart. I stopped compulsively blogging and documenting the quotes of others and began to flood the page with my own views of the world. With my own life. And as I watched the rhythm of my heart transform into words on a page, I felt a fraction of release, and then, peace. It was liberating. Intoxicating. I’ve been scared to put a pen down since. ”

More to come.

-b

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s