A month ago my friend Richard wrote, in response to this post , “…don’t keep it to yourself, write it all down, till you get worded out. Then write some more!”
I know the power words have over me. I learned how to give a more soulful kiss because Valentine Michael Smith taught me to grok and “become” the kiss. I drew on Sylvia Plath’s pain so I could work through my own without shoving my head in an oven. I warily eye the cameras at every intersection and think that George Orwell warned us and we should have paid better attention as Big Brother took over our lives.
I write because sometimes my thoughts are like a tornado whipping through me, blowing through reason and rest. I settle when the words settle on the page.
I write to plant my dreams in the rich soil of imagination where they root, bud, bloom and scatter, propagating new thoughts and ideas.
I write to be transported through the dark twisted caverns of the past and let the words dig through the rubble and unearth the treasures buried deep in memory.
When I began Forced Bloom, the old header had these words by Anaïs Nin, “And the day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” I have indeed blossomed since this blog began. Sometimes with an easy grace, and sometimes through sheer force of will.
Now I write because words have wings and I am ready to fly.
P.S. I have signed up for a writing course offered by WordPress so will be musing here every day (that’s the intention, anyway) for the remainder of the month to fulfill my assignments. Bear with me as I lift off. 😉