living the why

WHY? Why is a much tougher question. Like, How are you? it can really unravel a lot of a person’s psyche.

Why is often met with dodging. We are polite. We don’t often talk about the last straw, the one that is about to break the camel’s back. We all have our reasons why not. And so we avoid asking the why instead focusing on the what.

I’m guilty too. The what fills your social calendar. The what are the deadlines. The what are the bills. The what demands your time. It’s the same what employed in WTF?!?

The pandemic hit and we were all asking ourselves the question.

I had been alone for much of the pandemic. Solitude had never bothered me in the past. As an independent spirit yet social person, I have always enjoyed my own company. However, a handful of personal setbacks forced the necessity of stepping back to re-assess my reasons why. It became clear how much I neglected of my creative self, that inner child that was fed by reading and writing.

Writing poetry came to me at a time of deep, personal reflection, and meditation. It began as a grounding ritual. Every day, I wrote a poem, living the why, letting the question expand me. There was no searching. Whatever would surface from the darkness, I found a safe passage through it. I became my own love letter, bouquet of long-stem roses, box of chocolates, and shoulder to lean on.

I discovered it is enough to want to make art, write a poem or tell a story because it brings profound joy. It is a precious thing to have this creative outlet for yourself but it is an even more meaningful gift to be able to share it with others.