“Good question. I write because I must.”
Later, when I am alone, I ponder the question. Why do I write? Writing certainly gobbles up my time. Takes me away from family, friends, housework.
It’s as if I have been called to write my observations: a brilliant sunset seen through dark branches of a tree, the husband’s hat, my journey through cancer, walls I build up, walls I tear down. It’s like a map of my experiences. Not always easy to look at.
I share what I write, but it still may be for me. Perhaps it helps me feel less lost in the complex world I live in.
In the back of my head, I hope to make a tiny difference by writing. Maybe it is like the advice I gave to my children, wanting them to think for themselves, wanting them to navigate in their world.
I grew up in the fifties in an alcoholic home where there was much uncertainty. I would be shamed by parents if I spoke of the troubles inside our house, so I said little. But now, I write it because I can. There is power in telling it. And telling it feels good.
It often comes out of me as poetry which makes me smile.
By the grace of God, I did grow up. I am alive. Writing reminds me I am alive.
And how I love reading good poems. They slow me down and help me make sense of this world. I like it when the world makes sense.
Much of life overwhelms me. So much on the news and on the calendar. I resist people who want me to be quicker and do more at a faster pace. Multi-tasking simply does not interest me.
Few good poems move at a fast pace.
Why do I write poems and blogs? Definitely for the joy I experience.
I am drawn toward being honest and wanting to change the world for others. I think that if I can show the world glimmers of hope as poet Jane Kenyon did, maybe I can serve Christ and others. That would please me.
My poems are doors. I invite others to open the doors. They must turn the knob (or open the book), but then they can enter my world. Always, they are welcome.
Another possibility. It could be passion or addiction. Any way you look at it, I am hooked on writing. Hard days can be lightened by writing down on paper what I see, hear, smell, touch. For whom? For others, for myself.
I am so grateful to my husband for understanding a little about how this works. In the summer, he mows like it is a must. I write the same way.
I write because I must.
(If you write, maybe this blog is for your families. For your loved ones. For your kids. For your friends.)
P.S. If you happened on this blog via Facebook and want to read more, please sign up at patdurmon.com. Welcome to my many doors. Always, I invite your comments below the photo.
Pat Durmon in the writing process. Photo taken by Jimmy Durmon, February 2018.