Life and other imitations

Writing is like a lot praying. You can just let it spill out and await the feeling of salvation once you're done. You can hand it all over and feel a sense of relief wash over as you let it all go- knowing it's not up to you anymore. It's out. It's written. It's yours and then, perhaps someone else's. Catch and release. Just like that. In my teens I realized that I was unable to write unless I was very low or very high. My most passionate work has been created at these two extremes. It's not to say that a happy medium was not eventually found; I just wrote better either under duress or flying high. Sounds a bit bi-polar when you think of it- but it has always functioned for me. In between just never worked for me. To me, being on an even keel yielded only Masterpieces of Mediocrity.

I think about these things. I think about how much of "me" is me. The initial answer seems relatively simple. What immediately comes to mind is the stock answer: That's silly. All of Me is me. But everything that we are- what we do, how we live, etc. is learned or patented through our experiences and memories. There have been times that I wished I could simply hit a delete button on certain memories and then I realized that I went through everything for reasons unbeknownst to me. So I did what I know best and documented it. To see it on paper let's me know: This is real. This happened. I was there.

I know now that what I possess goes beyond visual consumption. Whenever I lose my way, I need only write down where I am and then I no longer need a map. God is 360. Nothing happens by chance. We are our dreams. We are our experiences. We choose our memories, believe it or not. How we document them dictates what we are made of. Inner strength is what we find when those around us are weak. I've been there. I am here. It has been written. All of it is me.