It’s hard to believe that Christmas Eve is upon us. My significant other and I managed to finish our Christmas shopping, all except for one gift certificate that we still need to get, but the hard part is out of the way.

Unfortunately my body has been fighting a cold these past two days and this morning I’m not feeling 100%.

It’s amazing how easy it is to become out of practice and on the other hand how easy it can be to get back into the groove of an activity that used to be second nature.

In some ways, I have felt like this, off and on, with writing. And in truth, if I look back at my journals, I think this has always been present. I don’t look at this as a negative. It really has become a part of my process—the need to keep reflecting on where I am on my writing path; how writing has changed for me. Writing has always been there for me and for that I am thankful. Writing has gotten me through some very emotionally difficult times.

Sometimes I feel as though I’m turning my back on writing—or trying to. I don’t think this is the case; it does come up in my thoughts, though. Up until I started blogging about three years ago, I was a very private person. I would share my private thoughts and pieces of myself with only a select few and my journal, then one day, I landed on a particular blog that moved me and motivated me to sign up for a blog, so that I could tell the writer of the blog how much I enjoyed what they wrote, how it moved me, and how it was the reason I was in blog land.

Not long after that, I posted my first timid blog. I was at a crossroads. I was tired of writing to myself, tired of pouring my heart out to the page for my eyes alone. I was starting to feel the need to share, even if just to push my words out into the universe, so that I could see them—as though pushing my words out there made them come to life. Posting my first blog brought great swirling butterflies and heart palpitations. It was such an odd feeling to expose myself like that.

As time went on, and with certain blog prompts that spoke to me, I became more comfortable with sharing bits about my personal memories, experiences, and thoughts.

I think lately, I have been going back to my private ways, but this wavers as well. This is my attempt to coax the writer out in me—to remind myself that I don’t need to go too deep back into my shell, that I might still like to come out now and again and that it would be good for me to keep pushing forward, to keep that pen moving, keep those eyes open, keep the spark alive.

And on this day, Christmas Eve, I feel grateful for life. I feel grateful for the written word.

Positive light and peaceful thoughts to you—to the world.

Rebb

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