Worshiping the Way of Words, Photo from BradensEye Letters Archives

Wording is a way of giving ceremony to who we’re continually becoming. My reverence of writing dates way back down the road of walking age. It’s quite possible that my originally introverted character got tripped up in being written through the diary-dealing approach as a means for managing those shy demons terrified to admit themselves in the light or dark. I think I had two blank books with locks on them in my earlier days. Surely, even my baby sister could have popped those suckers off without a full set of teeth yet to grind. So began my mesearch research language liturgy. It was the trustworthy illusion that no matter my age and living arrangement splitting a room with my sibling, I had a private place to ‘hide’ whatever I chose. But, also, herein lay a sacred space I could explicitly convey absolutely any part of me. That I should ever revisit who I was and am through words would come decades later.

We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect. ~Anaïs Nin

The safety an initially blank page provided me was a bottomless container for any gunk or gorgeous emotions to reside without others commentary about them as comparison. I’m certain that anyone who’s ever felt anything can agree upon the virtue of not sacrificing one’s own point of view for another’s estimation. I graduated to unlatched journals before elementary school abruptly shot me into high school (our small town forgoing the middle school space with a lack of humans enough to demand thus infrastructure). There’s a distinctly multi-tiny-teddy-bears covered cloth-padded chronicle resting in my storage unit. Utterly likely, it’s filled with the afflictions of youth. As well, I rely on its weight in emotional gold to carry some intellectual philosophy beyond my penning age. I aim to unearth personal relics this fortuitous annum. Reviewing the kernels of one’s core is courageous hubris.

Justifiably meddling with oneself is hardly a poor investment. Each of us houses an unrivaled miracle of humanity. I’ve identified how declaring yourself in words equates as kindred currency with a free mortgage. Through self-actualization, our foundation moves from suspect to supportive. When I tired of ‘talking’ exclusively with myself, I dared in cursive or all caps to spill to another. A bestie from secondary formation, Tiffany, received an abundant stream. For my parents, there were occasional showers as college worn on. The numbers waned as the traffic of a career life sped its motion. Too consumed because of a necessity for sleep and sex, hours previously dumping my thoughts whittled away. Though, it’s a wonder my confidential discharges weren’t as daily every year I’ve existed. We require processing. Like an unused operating system, we go stale failing application.

I’m an empty page
I’m an open book
Write Your story on my heart
Come on and make Your mark ~
Francesca Battistelli, Write Your Story

The solemn formula for sublime revolutions lies in capturing them well. This authorship had not sailed so far she couldn’t return to her shores, only to embark over and again. Inside of me lives a composer. That mine uses words in place of a wand or baton is of insignificant measure. What’s memorable is why each of us makes ourselves profitable. I’ve rarely established money as my driving factor. Positively, it’s the funding of sentences against more and more of them which bleed me ‘financially’. Where the stimulation is as outrageous as a market surge. My development the potential from flab to muscle force. Furthermore, these urges flex toward fostering yours. Withal, a calling for dividing and diving the wealth outside my solo experience. One day decided much of my internal must dismount a bit here. Maybe the mass of my lingo tugs the speech of your own soul. ’Twas always a juncture for sharing.

I’ve been inquisitively acquiring snippets of me and that which surrounds me my entire lifetime. Presently, it feels as if the moment I was shown how to write, the propulsion of formulating a repertoire with linguistics was essential. While competence appeared useful, the creative deacon that resides in the ether didn’t care about precision. The solitary command only that I never forget to perform. Undeterred by breaks, rates, or relationships of all sorts, my show goes on. Therefore, I cannot help but partake that I’m ‘writing’ me into history across this overarching everywhere. And, what better way to match such momentum than actually lettering my life for everyone to see. I boast and boost that you be explosive, wild, considerate, true, brave, caring, or dependable. All the same, don’t ever decline to be unsure, mischievous, stubborn, and enough bits of reckless to continue charming yourself. In one bound, lift yourself heart-centrically with phraseology’s pounce.

Lead With Your heART, Selfie

May the magic of whatever rhetoric you use be an ever-movable feast.

LOVER of life. Especially people, places, philanthropy and photography.

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