If you look closely at this photo, you’ll see a ghostly version of my current self, over-shadowing my earlier self, posing with my guitar on top of Mount Rainier. The passage of time, caught unwittingly with a click, captures the story of a life.
Our shared stories keep us connected to who we are. Words propel us along our way. I am a lover of words. I wrote my first stories in grade school; my first song at age 6, my first poem in the third grade. For me, writing is a form of self-reflection; a way to collect myself and to simultaneously put myself aside. To conjure the alchemy of writing, we must first surrender to the power of words.
I value the old-school ways. Putting pen to paper is tactile, visceral. Caressing the cool smooth surface of my pen, holding it gently, I release the shapes of words that bubble up inside me. Allowing them to flow out through my fingertips onto a piece of empty paper feels, oh, so delicious. And thrilling. Like falling in love.