i share with you these hands

When i am writing i sometimes hit upon this tipping point when words escape my fingers in a somehow 'flow of their own'. I will quickly and mechanically type away on a phrase or sentence, maybe an entire paragraph, and upon reading back i will be struck by how powerful it is (at least to me). And i will be surprised and almost doubtful by what was able to escape my fingers. But, i respect it and submit to 'being overpowered', because i am honestly struggling to accept that this force is really mine, or that it is even me.

I rather make up that it is something larger than my little self, some thing or power, or call it energy if you will that makes use of my hands to express itself. May you call me one crazy chick, i do not mind. I am truly fascinated by this process, writing makes me really really happy. And grateful to some force that chooses these hands as its medium.

Because these are the moments when time passes without my noticing, when my entire awareness is with the words and text in front of me. When the fountain of all my needs and peace resides in my typing black letters over white digital background, or scribbling on a piece of paper. Sometimes, when i read back my journals from times long gone - even the times when i was at the middle of the life i have reached by now - i find it hard to believe that it is an older voice of mine speaking. Especially in journaling i pour out whatever is coming, not at all caring about structure, expression or articulate beauty. I do not even read back at these sittings. All that then matters is expression, and relief (i admit writing is also therapy to me). Later on i sometimes find beauty in those words nonetheless.

I am slowly coming to learn that i have to be cautious to not expect that writing spirit to tip me. Rather, it requires all my conscious efforts and strong determination to sit down and start writing, no matter what. No matter how daunting and painful it at first may seem.

For the time being, the dear and most-appreciated spirit has resumed visiting this little world in-between my fingers. I welcome it with an open heart, all the time reminding myself that this presence is not for granted. It has for now arisen, sooner or later it will pass away. With all the potential of arising some time again some day.

All it needs
is sit and write
until the flow
will come
wash over me.