I have gained a new appreciation for the way I create on the page.
And how I express myself.
The singularity of my voice and the mosaic nature of my process.
I honor a validity no expert can teach and no framework can bestow.
I wait for and follow ideas. I get lost. I recover.
I listen to direction I receive internally.
And notice numinous clues that catch my eye and my heart.
I know on a visceral level what to trust and who.
And trust myself.
I have gained affirmation that there is no one way to tell a story, to write a memoir, to create a piece of art.
Pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, hands in a puddle of paint.
These are vehicles not only of telling but of listening.
I give them, and me, space and liberty to live.
Photo by Bakr Magrabi