It is Wednesday afternoon. I sit on the sofa and write this blog post on my phone while my husband (who is home with the flu) watches TV.
I have changed the title of this blog post several times while I waited for this blog to write itself.
Each breath, deep and calm, brings me closer to the words. The more I focus my breath, the more thoughts fade, the closer my true words can come and write themselves.
I always write in this silence, no matter where I am. I penned a poem standing in a field with 100000 others, standing in silence amidst chaos. I wrote Monday’s blog post in bed with only the snores of the cat to distract me.
In the silence, everything is possible. I can write something that inspires me so much that I tremble when I post it.
In the silence I see that the I who writes on her phone isn’t the one writing, but the one transcribing.
And that fact alone makes writing these posts so wonderful, enlightening and filled with gratitude for the silence where words live.
It makes me love being a writer.