Pen to paper (or is it finger to key?)

Sometimes I wonder, why do I write?  What's the point?  Does sending my thoughts and words out into the void really do anything at all?  And in times when I seem to lose track of my voice, of my connection to the blank page, I can't help but stop to question myself as well, as if my writing path is a direct reflection of my own life path.

And right now?  A standstill.  That's where we're both at—my writing and I.  I wake up in the morning, usually to the sound of rain drops casually falling outside my window, and I immediately get up to make that first cup of coffee—a ritual I look forward to every single morning.  And as I impatiently watch the drip drip drip of coffee fill my large, colorfully painted mug, the daily questions begin bubbling up in my mind like a violently erupting volcano.  How can I make this day a productive one?  Where should I start the job search today?  Will I ever find a job?  Where can I go?  What will make me happy?

And it's that last question, a question we have all found ourselves asking at one point or another, that trumps the rest.  It stands there, hands on hips, staring and withering me down little by little until all I can think about is making a second cup of coffee.  Sure, that will make things better.  But eventually, I start making a list because lists (especially on brightly colored post-its) almost always make me feel better.

What makes me happy?

*My friends

*My family

*Laughing with friends and family

*Coffee 

*Taking photos

*Discovering new places

*Traveling

*Crafting
*Music

*Yoga

*Reading a really good book

*Sunshine

*The ocean

*Making lists

*Writing

I sit back and look at my list, at all those things big or small that have a way of putting a smile back on my face.  And it's not just any smile, but a confident and believing smile that I try to carry with me for the rest of the day.  Suddenly the question what will make me happy? isn't quite so daunting because I know that no matter where I am or what I'm doing, deep down that happiness is still there, waiting to be summoned.  Every other seemingly daunting question seems to lose it's power.  I have incredible people in my life (even if we're not all in the same place this very moment), and I have the physical and mental ability to do things every day that make me happy.  It may sound simple, and sure, this whole process doesn't work its magic every day, but it's a start.  And maybe this standstill is a test of my dedication to myself, to my attitude, and to my writing.  

One of my favorite professors once said, "Tell your truth, not the world's."  (And yes, Erica Jong expressed the same brilliant idea as well.)  It is perhaps the best piece of advice I've ever received.  Sure, some people may find this whole idea of "truth" trite and overwhelming.  But the beauty in it is that it can be whatever you want it to be.  It's your mind, your words, and your truth.  

So then, why do I write?  I write because I believe in it.  I believe in the power of words, of expressing thoughts and linking them together to create some larger thought that tells my truth.  And no matter how big or small, any truth is worth writing for.  So today, here's mine, unwrapped and free.  Just     for     me.