Tuesday, October 13, 2009

A Pen In The Writer's Hand

My friend asked me how I come to write the words I write. Hm. Beats me. I just sit down and write what happens to be on my mind, or in my mind, at that moment. Somehow the thought just pops up. I find this true in everything I write. It is as if the words are are already in my mind just waiting to be placed on paper. Really quite strange. In fact, I have written pieces and reread them wondering how the words fell as they did and where in the heck they came from.

We are all born with certain gifts; however I'm not so sure that I understand what this means. If I am already programmed with this inside of me, then I certainly do not have a gift. It came with the package. As with an artist who sees the picture in his or her mind, the brush finds its way. Or the musician who touches an instrument just once and knows it well. Not only does this happen with artists but with everyone. Why can some easily know what clients want without really being told or know how to put things together without instructions? How does the dancer know the movement or the drummer know the beat?

Maybe there is a link with these kindred spirits who know understand these 'gifts'. Maybe those who understand the way we think add to our evolution. There are parts of us that have a voice. A voice that cannot be denied.

I hope that each of you listens to the voice inside. Set it free. Encourage our families to find their voices. What a wonderful world it would be if the bits of harmony we each possess were released, completing the great masterpiece called humanity.

I am not a writer. I am only a pen in the writer's hand.

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