Writing

Writing is a form of therapy, someone said. Yes, I agree wholeheartedly. If I really think about it, writing down stuff has been the only way I remember anything. Sometimes I look back and read stuff, I don't even remember: happy times, sad thoughts, frustration, crisis, lessons I've learned, life experiences, laughter, tears, silly things...everything that helped shape me.

Retracing our steps and finding faults in our paths is the only way we learn to stop making mistakes…these traces, here are the only way I know…only way to see that I am maturing ahead in life…..sometimes mistakes keep happening. The cautious things we keep to ourselves seems to be slipping from fingers, slides away from our grasp like silk, things pull themselves away from our safety. The rain pounding on the window is like a knock one hears at the door to get inside, to get released….

So what happens if this mistake from the past happens again, and then we start to feel that the most elemental gifts in our lives are slithering away? Its like holding sand in our hands, the harder we hold, the quicker the sand seems to be slipping away. Do humans have the power to stop these things from going away to another place that is more tantalizing, more deep and more pleasant….at least temporarily that is…!