Books, Knowledge, Writing: My Passion Remains

Two chapters later I realized the reason I love to read. Knowledge. My thirst for knowing goes beyond the encyclopedia set I coveted as a youth. The old black and musty set my grandmother had on her shelves filled me with insatiable appetite to learn.

I’d find myself engrossed in one of the encyclopedia books when we visited Grandma’s Auburn, Washington home. In the corner near the side door, where the light would come in through the holly trees, I’d read one of the letters of the alphabet. Each time we’d visit, I’d choose another letter. Etchings, picture findings, and clippings added to the interest I had in the written word.

Today, my time was spent learning from experts in the field of mental health, long term effects of domestic violence on families, and attended a virtual conference.

Books remain a constant source of empowerment. They open portals to worlds I’d never experienced in person as well as adventures my lifetime bypasses. For the time spent exploring the written word, my life becomes enriched.

To write is to breath words to life.

While the written word takes a back seat to my agency and meaning-centered career, I realize the moments I spent writing previous to the new adventure, had to do with self-care. Just like sitting at my grandma’s corner bookshelf, writing was my go-to to let go of the thoughts, ideas, dreams, or concerns filling up my mind.

The time spent writing is limited in its scope; worthy in the effort. I’ll write more as time permits, I usually think to myself. Unfortunately, if we neglect to set aside time, time runs away.

Whatever we forget to schedule is left to uncertainty.

Even when I think I have all the answers, I realize I am still lack knowledge. The ability to accept what I know and see the gift of knowing more propels me to keep picking up new books to read.

I began reading Ego Is The Enemy, for the second time. Ryan Holiday writes a compelling book, with a straight to the heart type of focus. I read two chapters last night and again, one more tonight. Reading reminded me how much I know inside of me is bursting to land on some form of white paper.

We can be too busy, doing all the good things, and forget how much the little bits we can do to brighten our world are just as valuable. To write is to breath words to life. My ego says I can do it all; my brain reminds my ego that the last time we thought that, I crashed and burned.

So, I’ll plan to dig deeper on topics near to my heart, write with my zealous approach, and create that master class I know is bursting inside of me, to help other families heal.