I don’t think that being a soulful writer always means being gentle and loving with my words. No. There’s much more to it than that. Passionate, soulful, blunt, authentic, courageous writers who pull no punches. These are soulful writers.
They bitch, whine, laugh, cry, scream, curl themselves up in balls in a corner, drenched in sweat, rocking back and forth, praying that someone out there will rescue them from whatever is tormenting them deep inside. Their soul yearns to bring out the best in them and too often it’s just not good enough..
For the audience yes. Some know all too well those feelings of self-loathing. We listen to that demon within. That voice that says to “give it up, already”. You are not worthy. You’ve got nothing. I can change your mind with a word. Failure!
And yet we feel it in our souls. That deep-seeded aching need to spill our hearts out letter by letter, word by word. We find a way to shut the demon up if only for that moment of time. Each moment moves on to the next. We give up and go back torturing ourselves and loving and hating what we write. The never-ending torturous love affair between a writer and her words.
x x x
What do you think? Does that sound like a tortured soul? I wrote it on July 19, 2005. It kind of resonates with me right now. I guess it has for 9 months.
Lately that demon (the ego) has been tormenting me. I wish I could just write more of what I want without fear of upsetting or hurting anyone. I know I shouldn’t let that stop me, but there is a reason it does. And there’s only one person I’d give this reason to.
I guess this is a start. I need to practice allowing my Soul to write for me. I’m kind of rusty. I could speak it verbally very easily. She wants to speak to the one who is my constant Soul Companion, in my waking hours and while I dream. This began 9 months ago with that first dream.. You are a God-send. In the very literal sense of the word. I don’t know the reason, all I know is the love deep within.
There are no accidents. There is a purpose for everything. It’s all for a higher purpose. Of this, I’m sure.
I’ve loved you since March (edit: make that since April). And the love has never dissipated. It’s only grown. Right from the Soul.. From my Soul to your Soul. Love remains. No matter what.
x x x
Afterthought: Dark night of the writer’s soul, perhaps?
Thank you for reading.