Stories that have a heartbeat...

Unfortunately, I do not always get to blog as frequently, as I used to...  Not because there is no time, I guess it is more because, life decided to up and direct my energies elsewhere.  

Life is a precarious thing and if you do not pay attention, you end up finding that weeks, if not months have passed and you have lost your direction and plot, by which steered your path and purpose.  

So today, I have taken stock of everything in my life and am making a conscious effort to getting back to what used to bring me, great pleasure - writing. 

I sort of just stopped doing everything and let life consume me; I placed my energy in feeling all the things that entered my life, to absorb my energy.  I did not voluntarily give up who I was ~ am; it is just that being highly empathic to everyone else's needs, puts what I am doing, dreaming or creating - on hold. And before I know it - great lengths of time have literally disappeared - sacrificed yet again, for someone else.

Do you do that sometimes?

Do you allow the world to take you on a ride, you really have no idea where it is going, just because you never planned it?

I do not do this often, but sometimes, something sticks on your person - grabs you with both hands and says..."pay attention to me - I need to tell you something."  So, you stay - you listen - you absorb the energy - you help - you break all your rules - you accept everything, you said you would never again.  And then, you are in a predicament.

You are stuck, not knowing which way to turn because you abandoned yourself, so that life could take you on a fairytale ride of immense adventure.  You imagine all the possible scenarios and outcomes, if you just give a little more - of yourself. You get so caught up in the storyline. You forget to keep writing - because now the story lives.  It breathes - it has voice - it has substance and being... it has a heartbeat. 

...A heartbeat that you cannot possibly come to the decision of erasing, from your life - because it is now part of you.  It grew toward you, as who you are - it gave you wings to think you could fly and create all the wonders, you ever hoped of making real.  And I guess that is where writing finds its body - so that it can walk its own miles, see its own flesh and characters as they come and go in the story that somehow became real.

You know, stories are one of those things that everyone says or expects to - come in the form of a book, a manuscript, a painting...a film.  And yet some of the most memorable, loving and unexpected stories just arrive - and sweep you off your feet.  They are the stories that are built in the shadows in the places where no one goes, because it is dark and mysterious and somehow beats life into the parts of you, you knew existed, but never were brave enough - to feel. 

They are the stories that will stay with you, until the day you die - until the comets of time no longer pass in similar tandem, in the heavens.  They are stories that cannot really be explained to others, not because they are so unique, but because they are so special - words cannot wrap meaning around what the heart experiences - in the story.  

You are left feeling totally breathless and empty of all artistic, creative energy because you do not know how you could ever be privileged again to experience a story of the same grandeur, meaning and significance in one's life.  

Stories have the ability to change who you are - whether they are found on paper or scribed by the blood in your veins - they all matter - they all need to be told - held in one's heart.
​And sometimes...they need a place to rest.