Some people can't help but write. It flows from their minds like a melody pulls out a song. It is the air that they breathe, the treatment keeping them alive. It is the extension of who they are all the while.
What makes me do that? What makes me forget to do the simplest tasks because I am too engrossed in spilling out the talent that I have been given?
What makes me come alive and gives me the fuel to wake up every day?
For the writers, it's blank pages. For the doctors, it's cures for the sick. For the teachers, it's the knowledge that you are helping a mind grow. For the priests, it's the sacraments.
But for me.... What is it for me? What is my adventure that keeps my blood pumping? What is my outlet that I can't help but release? What is my desire? What keeps these fingers typing on this page?
If I can't figure out what makes me tick like pages to a writer, what does that make me? Lost? Human?
How do the writers know to write? How do the dancers know the steps?
I want that. With every bone In my body. I want the answers to flow from me. I want to discover what I have to offer. I want to be whole.
linked with Lisa-Jo Baker