I write
Tuesday, September 23, 2025
I write for a point. I write for a purpose. For someone else to read and absorb — to change them. Instead of what I really want — for it to change me. For me to revel in the words I write. For me to revel in the joy of expirmenting and putting my thoughts on paper. For realizing the joy, the hope, the happiness. The purpose is in the writing down. The ironing out. Not the showing someone else, Not the validation, the life change, the praise. The likes, the shares.
But for the simple act of putting thoughts on paper. No justification. Just beauty, hope, joy.
Hope freedom resilience joy
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For the joy of writing the words down. For the hope it springs up in me. The words setting me free. Building my resilience to the world. Who said they have to have a point? Who said they have to tell a story? Why can’t I just write what I want, and see what sets me free? The freedom of allowing the words to flow. Recognizing the joy they bring. The hope that swells inside of me. The resilience that builds in the act of doing. Of the keeping of the promise to myself, day in and day out.
I absorbed this idea long ago that my words had to have a point. A purpose. A story to tell. That my voice had to be unique and I had to mesh it together with what was socially acceptable, or desiring, to be read by an audience. To write what would make money, to find more meaning and change the world.
Well, while I love that goal still, it’s probably lofty. Too lofty, in fact. Full of pressure and unmet expectations. And not that I cannot do that, in fact we’re all changing the world in our own way. Right? The world we’re changing is our own. Our universe inside us, instead of the physical universe we all take up space in.
Now that I’ve let this go. Or, maybe more accurately — As I work on letting it go. It’s been ingrained in me for over 2 years now — have a purpose. A point. A story. You must have this or nobody will read. It’s not til I found Jedidiah Jenkins that I’m really starting to see that there doesn’t need to be a point. There is beauty in the writing. There is joy in the writing. If I focus on that, and not what I must get across to the reader, I can find my voice. I can already sense the joy in the writing. The healing being found from putting it on paper. Choose to read or not. There is so much out there available for readers to absorb. Not for readers to consume, for that to me seems like is a symbiotic relationship that will not serve either party, writer or reader.
Hope freedom resilience joy. I write for them all. I write to find them all. And I hope you come along for the ride.
