Write for what’s right.

For me, to master the skill to write and speak mean a great deal. I’ve read several books and I am consistently inspired by a world of writers. I’ve spent my nights on the sofa watching TED talks on my Kodi box and I am in awe with all this life education. From deepening my research of spirituality, self-help and life stories, a piece of me craves to reach to this form of precision.

Often times, especially when I use to question whether there was any purpose in doing so, I signalled my intention. I knew what I was about; I now know what I want to write about and fully know why I am writing. It’s for my freedom to express my being into word form.  Verbal or written.

Every time we decide to show up for our hobby, talent or skill we put in a big ok for others to do the same. We OK dancers to dance, we OK for singers to sing and other fellows writers to do the same. We may not get rich by it immediately, or more so never is rich from it but we do it because it’s within us to pour it out.

Sometimes there might be little effort in it. There might be a time where you may sacrifice time, still all is worthwhile. It’s something your soul calls you to show up for.

Practice makes perfect when it comes to really giving that spark the final touch. Usually, the thing we are gifted with hasn’t come to us fully crafted. We have to do that all ourselves. Our job is to mould it in a way that suits us, which work with us and will eventually work for us. You don’t have to be brilliant to start, but you do have to begin somehow.  Decide to put in bite size chunks of time and watch the transition lead to excellence.

I know everyone whether it’s creative in arts, business, politics or education owns something they owe to them as a form of release. From that stems an extension of themselves.

Even if it doesn’t bring you the cash in the bank, other times you would feel like it’s getting nowhere, still SHOW UP because your job is just that. Turn up, and see where it goes. Piece by piece the house is built.

Looking back at all my writings, though I cringe at my mistakes and how bad my thinking process was, or picking it apart to find out more imperfections. Sometimes moody, emotional, joyous, I am still, gladly glad that I continued.  Not by force, but because I want to. It means that much to me.

Below is an exempt by Cheryl Strayed from her book: Tiny beautiful things. It says all that needs to be said.15403604_1238862026206853_5282533426998292492_o


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