Sometimes I worry I’ve forgotten how to write.
Winter does this to me, it makes me want to hide.
It makes me forget the thrill of creating.
Then I get stuck in a cycle of forgetting and hiding.
It becomes a chore to capture the thoughts in my head,
form them into sentences and lay them down on the page.
It becomes labor trying to breathe life into my words, into myself.
It’s hard to breathe when you’re laboring to live, let alone write.
Especially when you feel most alive while writing.
It can be a vicious cycle.
It takes work though, to live. I tell myself this over and over.
Maybe its easy for some people?
To just live and be and do the things that make their soul thrive.
It is hard work for me to do these things,
and when the weather turns cold and the days are so short…
The work feels too much.
But, in the middle of too much, I’m making the choice. I will work
I am going to work, right now, as I type words for the first time in so long.
Tomorrow morning I will go to work when I plant my feet on my yoga mat and salute the sun.
I will go to work when I read books that spark words, engage in soulful conversations with other writers.
I will go to work being my best self in upcoming job interviews.
I will go to work creating art, seeking movement, writing daily.
I will work to be the best granddaughter, sister, friend, leader, and though its hard, daughter too.
I am going to work to create the best life for myself. A fulfilling, thriving life full of light and desire, and dreaming.
No matter how hard I have to work.