“Don’t ask what the world needs, ask what makes you come alive and go do it. Because what the world needs is more people who have come alive.” ~Howard Thurman


Today I start a 30-day online writing course titled “Write Yourself Alive“. It sounds quite promising as who doesn’t want to feel alive?  I have to admit that ever since the opportunity presented itself in my Instagram Feed, thank you Tyler Knott Gregson, I’ve been anticipating this dedication to the one I love. Words, whether spoken, scribed, whispered or imbibed, are my reverent boast to the universe – that I am, that you are, that we all are alive, each one of us is living this one precious breath of life. 


I’ve been writing on and off for most of my life, however, I seem to fall short of committing to a sustainable writing practice. So many aspects of my life have fallen into place and, yet, this passion that courses through my veins has remained untapped potential. I dance around it, with a blog post here, a few chapters in one of the novels I’m working on, I tap out a poem or heart-felt response to another’s writing share. But this dalliance is getting real, it’s up to me to come alive, it’s up to me to show up to channel the word flow…the byproduct of my soul’s expression unfolding as I speak, type, think and express.





Photo credit via here.



It’s up to me to begin again and again and again. There are no guarantees, just the simple acting of doing. It’s not easy, but it is simple, this putting my heart where my ass is while clocking in my time. I have to write thousands of terrible lines, chapters that don’t function and words that don’t fit, to find those few that shine on their own. It’s my job to excise from my heart that pulse that so rapidly beats as I intuit it coming. The rush, the thrill of getting it just as I feel it, is a free-fall into a blush cashmere infinity.


I don’t need more adjectives or adverbs or literary hooks, I’ve tossed out the notion that I must be learned and armed with framed permission that I am a writer, that nonsense does not aid in this spiraling journey. What sits directly at the core is the ability to tunnel deep, side-saddled with creativity and fear, mustering the strength tandem to the soft whisper, “show yourself, sweet blessed breath of life, live through me.”


I walk along this path of heart with the silent nudging to jump off the ivory tower into the abyss that is my subconscious; the swirling twirling energy connecting me to the fine shrine of all that is. The ability to do THIS, is what’s needed; the daily foray into my creative habit. To day-in and day-out face the blank page with a fervor falling short of nothing less than scribing, in shimmering blood of the vein of gold, all the characters, carved out spaces, imparted graces and worlds dividing my mind through the sweet alchemy of writing. I’ve learned to walk within the dark unknown, to be the living light that I am as I spin my gilded rhyme. This is to share my beloved, connecting souls to scrolls as I come alive.


We all have a pulse, what is yours telling you?