Writing out loud #1

Why it is wise to warmly embrace the blossoming potential within us

Hello there! I hope that this week brings you nothing but joy and optimism! In case you're still feeling the chill of winter, I hope my last post—which was all about you and the people you've loved or are still in your life—will bring some comfort. Please consider making a donation or purchasing a coffee to support my work if you enjoy reading my articles. If it's alright with you, I might flow poetic about the thoughts racing through my head. Meanwhile, have some alone moments with this short post about embracing your potential and making the most of your inner beautiful world, I Thank you!

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Why it is wise to warmly embrace the blossoming potential within us

I started to write with a specific purpose in mind: to feel certain that I was getting started, not to delay or doubt myself for doing so, and not to give up before it bloomed simply because I struggle with the non-expert"right"to an opinion. I started with small notes in my journal to prove to myself that I can learn again and again, and not settle for one way of living or expressing myself. My most valuable spirit-blooming tools are given by the inner bravery that allow me to learn whatever crosses my multidimensional mind; my style of attempting different pathways may be perceive by others as confusing, I perceive it as playful clarity.

I'm not sure who needs to hear it or read what I have to say, but I'll say and write it anyhow. My mother loved writing poetry, but nobody had the chance to read it; it never left her notebook, and I know she was content to keep the volume down of her breathtaking orchestrated thoughts, which she gracefully contain them.

But I frequently wonder what her life would have been like if she had been out there, reading aloud her soft feelings and all that she had wonderfully contemplated. She, like most nameless artists, was born far ahead of her time, left out by society and culture, and somehow erased from our shared, selective memory that we refer to as the past, but I and a few others remember her very clear.

This was because she was, in certain ways, too atypical and unique for her time. I now know, as I approach the age when she had me born, that she saw too clearly through the opacity of her era, or she stretched her vision too far above its potential. I now can feel her solitude.

For her and all the lives that have gone before me, I write, paint, and read purely for the purpose of self-expression, as an acknowledgment of the possibility that they may have lived.

This is essentially a dialog with oneself: me with myself while writing it, you with yourself while reading it. How you read it is influenced by your own spirit—your own love, sense, and need for clarity. We bring the entity of who we are as individuals to everything we make, projecting every experience we've ever had and every unanswered question that haunts the darkest corners of our being.

If a work of art is heartwarming, it is worthwhile, and you are certainly fortunate. It reflects back to you like a guiding light, enlightening you with a broader, wider self-image of possibilities and making you more awake and aware as you begin to question. That is the divine gift of nature—to use our creativity and imagination in endless colorful ways so we can fulfill our unique human potential.

Whether it's art you've made or art you've seen in others, appreciating it helps you see yourself more clearly as the architect of your own life—which, I think, is our innate potential if we open ourselves up to it and learn from life and our encounters.

Hopefully, in learning to see ourselves, we will recognize those who are ahead of our time, walk side by side with them, and let them fill us with guiding wisdom.

Let me know, what do you create?

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