Feelings get snared in ideas and scents that explode from stories past.
New thoughts and images form out of quiet interactions and conversations with strangers. This happens so often—like breathing—that my tongue twists into short unrecognizable phrases and awkward comments. And there I am left without expressing what is really flowing through my mind and heart.
Other times I am drawn inward to my own inner voice and find comfort in a crowd where no one recognizes me. Alone, but not and ever so invisible. Yet the sounds of thoughts and images forming feelings still roll quickly through until I am awestruck and mute at the same time.
These ideas always float in and out and drop in at unplanned moments like while I am mid-suds in the routine of hair-washing or at a stop light at noon on a Thursday.
Sometimes they pluck me out of my warm, dream-filled sleep and whisper in my ear.
And then there are the moments when I stare at the blank screen and the cursor blinks expectantly at me winking and beckoning for those thoughts to find my fingers and allow what I see and feel to be given new light. And times like those I occasionally find myself in a blank pause with nothing left but cold hands and tired eyes.
On some nights I lose myself in another person’s words and sense my heart beating to their cadence and drown in language. I fall deeply down into the story and hide under my covers catching sight out of the corner of my eye of the clock edging closer to way past late.
More importantly it is here that I find kindred spirits and share this unavoidable pull to create art and ideas in prose and words. It is here that my tongue unleashes its intention and motives.
I can finally speak volumes quietly.
Every so often a tiny voice from across the country or sometimes across the world will respond back with a word of thanks, saying my words made a connection in their heart and that idea fills my soul. Because that feeling of symmetry—simpatico—in your art form and finding that connection is the sweet culmination of your story. It is here that I bow my head and pause in gratitude recognizing that we are all really one.
This is why I write.
Dana Gornall is a mom of three crazy kids and a dog. She works as a licensed massage therapist in Amherst, Ohio and is a certified sign language interpreter. She is always looking for opportunities to even more personal growth. While not interpreting, doing massage, or being with her family she loves going to yoga. You can see some of her articles on elephant journal and connect with her on Twitter and Facebook.