Archive for the ‘Musings’ Category

Why do we write?

As I lay in bed tonight, I thought about the title given this blog:  A Reason to Write.  Why do I need a reason?  I thought.  Well, that’s simple.  Because without a reason, I wouldn’t write.  Why do I even want to write?  What is it about writing that calls to many of us?  26 symbols that make up letters, another dozen or so more that constitute punctuation, and yet something outside of the mathematics and the symbolism calls to us.  Why do we write?

Perhaps we write because writing is something that makes us human.  Perhaps it is that ability to express ourselves that truly makes us feel as if we have something to say.  Unlike the spoken word, writing’s enduring presence seems to call to us, as if we yearn for a permanence we fear we never will receive.  Or, perhaps, in writing, we feel that we have accomplished more than in speaking, for there is something physical left behind.

Writing seems to call to us at many levels.  From the email full of incomplete sentences to the well written, college worthy paper…it seems to fulfill a need within us.  And so we write.  Millions of volumes of text have been published, and millions more exist unpublished in forms of journals, or, dare I say, blogs.  Poems are studied in the classrooms, while millions of others lie concealed in boxes of memories.

Even if no one is listening, we write.  And at the cathartic moment where our minds are freed from the fetters of perfectionism and we stop worrying about the audience we may or may not have, we achieve something.  For just that brief moment we have grasped a hold of ourselves and acknowledged the transcendence that is within, allowing ourselves to truly be whole, to be authentic, to be free.

And so we write.  We write for a freedom we all wish to know.  We write for ourselves and allow others to come and what remains of our release.  We write because no one is listening and at the same time, someone just might be.  And, we write to come to know that something inside of us.  For that little piece of our soul that, perhaps, waits for us to confide in the music of the written word.

And so, we write.


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