Remembering Compassion

At some point in the last couple of years, I forgot why I started writing.

I lost what made writing special for me. I forgot what it was like to be honest about the pain of living. I forgot how beautiful it is to help create feelings. I forgot about the self awareness that it brought me.

Writing allows me to bypass some of the automatic blind spots that hides my neuroticism. Giving me a clearer insight into the depths of my mind. I gain peace from my understanding, which tempers my minds of anxiety, frustration, and fear. I need this to catharsis to be whole.

My process for this– first comes the exploration, then definition, then how that concept conflates (in the positive sense of that word) with the rest of reality, and then to express the understood truth in a way that resonates with my heart and soul.

This is how I write poetry

This is how I “see” myself

This is how I Love myself

I need to explain. That is how this body’s mind synthesizes information. In the future, I may discover some other way to understand my self– Heart and Soul, but at this time, this is my way.

So I will keep coming back to myself to live in accord to my nature.

I will not deny what I need;
I will not deny myself.

I will go keep going back to the noise until I hear the harmonious symphony of life. I will mull over the hard parts as many times as I need, because I owe that to the universe inside myself.

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