WHAT I HAVE LEARNED ABOUT MYSELF AND MY WRITER’S VOICE.
Through the writing group I've learned that my voice when accepted as evolving, becomes a window where as if on angel’s wings thoughts fly and capture the beauty and reality of things and thoughts just newly born.
I've learned how words like salve on a wound bring healing to inner grief and pain. My voice transformed into words creates stillness, they remind me that there is no joy without sorrow and there is no suffering without compassion. There is no confusion without finding on the far side a peace that passes all understanding. Life has two sides to it as every coin has a head and a tail, and all that is, turns to all it can be. Words give choices to how these coins are spent and which has the greatest value. Words written like words spoken can never really be erased--- perhaps from the paper, but never from the space between the heart and the letters on the page.
Every season, every situation calls and echoes memories of how it used to be--I've learned through writing not to waste my sorrows but hold them so close to my heart that they become a soft sweet joy of fellowship not lost but transformed into a life well lived and a past full of wholeness where sorrow and joy flow mingled together.
I've learned that writing sets the spirit free to remember yesterday and to dream of tomorrow. Words capture essence and flavor that was it not written down would be lost and life depreciated. Words reveal who I am--the shades, the shadows the shape ordained and predestined to shine in fullness.
The 'hurry' of today is made to saunter by the written words--elongated the words reveal depth of meaning and greater application.
It is Thanksgiving day and the trees are bare now for the most part but in being so they expose the peaks of mountains surrounding us, reminding me of the loving arms of our heavenly Father. Light streams through the naked structures of yesterdays abundant harvest and trees with branches no longer covered are exposed to the light.
As I set the table for six, sadness fills my heart and causes a tear to trickle silently down my face. How often in the past I had wished I had silver serving for everyone--I do now--and I recall those times I did not. The table is set but not for nine, just six---all the wonderful memories fill my mind and sadness threatens to overwhelm me--but no, I listen as I fold the bread napkin in a different manner as ever before and I am reminded that changes come in so many ways---many small like the napkin while others leave a 'gap' and a silver serving of six is enough. And I find 'my voice' in the words I write.
Acceptance with Joy is a difficult place to come, yet there I rest and by God's grace will continue to allow my memories to bring comfort and warmth. They are with me always, they are who I am, filling the corridors of my mind with all the joys and sorrows known in our home, our fellowship, our family. Each child taught and learned to lead the family in prayer, to read the scriptures placed before them and listen to those further along share how life had made them real.
As the Psalmist himself reveals the word begins so small and close like a noun that grows from within to become an object waiting for life and breadth of meaning. Writing brings soul's ascension as the words like stair steps lead to a place of openness, a wider place, a place to breathe and perceive from higher vantage points. In them lay views beyond description and thanksgiving to God that fills the void and says life is made even more abundant by the changing seasons.
Diane M. Hale
11/23/11
