“I must write it all out, at any cost. Writing is thinking. It is more than living, for it is being conscious of living.” ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

In the beginning were the words. And the words were me. And the words are me. Sometimes I worry that I am not quite careful enough with the words I choose, particularly when I am speaking on matters of great import to me. I have felt this concern magnified recently in discussions I have had regarding my own philosophies or even my own feelings when something arises that brings out my volcanic heart.I am a woman who tends to gravitate towards the fire of emotions and so speaking my thoughts and feelings seems to come with a sense of intensity and volatility that I am somehow more skilled at smoothing out when recording them in a manner that allows me to literally "look" at what I am saying and what I am trying to say. For me, writing is not just an exercise or a thing to check off my to-do list, it is the ultimate and intensely personal expression of the individual self. While I may attempt to explain myself clearly through open dialogue, it is in the careful transcription of my innermost emotional mechanics onto viewable space that I most genuinely represent unpredictable dance between my brain and my heart. To be able to have access to that with the blessing of hindsight to give perspective is worth whatever the cost in time, effort, and complete honesty.