Love for Writing

You ever had one of those moments where you stop with bricks worth of confusion narrowly balancing all over you, about to teeter to the ground, and you think to yourself, “Better get writing”?

Maybe it’s just me, but it’s a dense feeling that seems to call Ricky Ricardo’s “Lucy, you’ve got some splaining to do” into rememberance. The idea of running around like a chicken with you’re head cut off until you get arrested by the feeling of not knowing what is going on propels us to write. It feels like I’m filled up and needing poured out all over the paper in order to not bubble up and explode.

And so we write. What the hell are we writing about? Life stories, faith, Jesus,  beloved other people? And whatever crazy iteration of character those words want to scream out as they’re birthed out with all typos onto the pretty, dim lit screen.

Are we writing because we believe it will do some good, or because we have a radical belief in waiting to see? Reading other’s writing strengthens me (when I read the positive stuff). I hope it does some good. But writing does me an immense good by organizing and producing all of what would burble out into nonsense. It’s partially coherent this way. I have it as a transcript so that I don’t word vomit it out in passing, which isn’t actually a problem, but this saves time. You grow when you write. You explore what all is worth being written about, because not everything is.

Blogging is like a continuous writers workshop for whatever purpose you make it for, good i.e. bad. Kindred intentions are found online, even when that’s not a good thing. Maybe we write because of the need to feel heard, or maybe it’s to feel like you’ve accomplished something. Maybe it’s just more time with other people. You can use each of those for good within it’s own scale and place.

I feel like so many writers can’t help but write. You don’t always want to, but it’s a need with eating and breathing and everything else. I see writing as a tool, but it would be like the sun falling out of the sky if I couldn’t write anymore. I had a friend ask what would happen if I could no longer write the other day, if God somehow took it away. I told her that I don’t see why he’d do that, since it’s such a tool that can be used for his glory. I didn’t say this, but I’d probably loose my entire mind. How can I explain that it’s not like a simple hobby? This is verbal bloodletting. Words are my self medication.

Are they higher than God? Well, no. They can’t be apart from God; all of creation in and of itself is a word and was spoken by him. Sure, my words have none of that effect, but words can conjure up the idea of the breath of life behind creation. To try to divorce words and language from God and God from them feels a little awkward; like you’re wearing the wrong size bra. It doesn’t really make sense.

If I loved music as the core of what I do instead of just a passing passion, maybe it would seem just as unthinkable to never compose, play, or experience a song again. Each gift is different in nature, and to me writing seems a little more useful (go figure). Maybe the beauty in music is that it isn’t absolutely necessary to eat oew breathe or live but it makes all things more beautiful. In the same way, not ever picking up a pen would be as if the light went out.

I don’t pray or sing or enjoy other’s company as fluently as I write. My prayers are growing, but I’ve written since I was in elementary school. My sister tells me to stop using her as my diary when I talk at her too long. I need this outlet in my life. Maybe I’m blind, but I think if it were an idol, then it wouldn’t matter so much what one writes. Would God take away a tool like this just to teach one of us a lesson? That seems like a waste to me. I don’t know why he would do that. It’s up for debate, but I have no idea what good reason he’d have to take away something so natural. Okay, never mind. That’s a really shoddy argument.

I don’t know. I think that I’d have a lot to learn if I left it, but it is still just a beloved tool of self expression. I think it’s healthy. And maybe it’s one of those things that for some of us just comes as strongly as the need to breathe.

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Published by

haleylol

I am a teacher-to-be who loves people. I am not afraid of many things. I like to explain my thoughts logically on a very birds-eye view level--I was born thinking that way. I follow Jesus Christ, and I accept only that label to describe my identity--that I am a child of God, as are infinite others, regardless of their other identities. Christ is my one thing.

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