The WHY and the REAL WHY

THE WHY.

I write.

A lot.

But most of my words are scribbled on pages and pages of strewn about journals… in my house… where I live alone.

Last Sunday I sat in my friend’s living room with her husband while their two kids danced and played around us until there was a knock at the door.

The neighbor from a few doors down entered with her daughter and a Sabbath day treat.  She joined us, a friend of my friend but a stranger to me. 

The group of us conversed there together and I felt happy.  And when I’m happy, I sometimes sing.

Stranger: Do you sing? You have a good voice.

Me: ((Dumbfounded in that “I used to sing but don’t anymore” way.))

My Friend:  Yeah, she has a really good voice.

Me:  ((Dumbfounded in that “my friend has a better voice” way.))

Stranger: Yeah, you can tell you are a good singer.

I know, right?  A self-esteem booster for any of us.

I’m a creative.  Emo as my sister will readily confess to you on my more private behalf.

Music is my language.  Still, I write because in all honesty, I can’t sing.

THE REAL WHY

I am aware many in the world write much better than I do.

And though I have put my pen to paper for many reasons, not the least of all to earn some extra cash, I have one main reason for doing so.

I write for clarity.

Because when I write down the experience, record the emotion, and plow through the details, nearly always, the wisdom manifests.

I have been marked many times by my superiors as being “wise beyond my years.”

I value this compliment more than being labeled as a great writer.

I’m a good writer at best. 

But I’m a quick study and my major is life.  Fortunately for me, my curriculum is not multiple choice, rather in essay form.  And my passing grade is a badge I wear with honor as others take notice.