Ink

I feel like it has been a while since I last wrote down my thoughts. Sometimes I find its invaluable to my processing, and other times its not as important. How do you measure the importance of trying to spill your heart on paper (or on keyboard, in my case)? I believe that writing out my thoughts can be beneficial in digging out the depth of my thought life. Sometimes it challenges me to think deeper thoughts, rather than channel surf through empty advertisements in my head. “Why did I spend hours flipping through the status updates of people I seldom talk with on facebook?” “How do we eradicate abortion in our lifetime?” “I wonder what it would do for my wardrobe if I bought a new pair of TOMS?” 

Even if we don’t find resolutions in just thinking about the world’s issues, could our thought process lead us to a moment of prayer that could refocus ourselves to think less selfishly? And actually, a prayer of inability to help could open the door to see an opportunity to get involved. Or, it could help us see the need to pray more.

Writing could also cause our thoughts to inspire change in others. Spilling our insecurities in written word could be like emptying an ink jar on white carpet. Spilling something so messy could stain someone’s hands with the truth that ‘your thoughts, your inhibitions and your shortcomings are not your own- there are others who go through this too.’ Could we be bold enough to admit the different ways we see ourselves as more apart of and not above the human race than we really like to admit? That in reality, we have less answers than we have questions? 

Maybe writing could do that. If we wanted to be really honest...

Or

Writing too honestly could expose the death-riddled parts of our hearts and incur more death by the judgement passed by readers. Judgment may be too strong. I’ll use the word ‘critique’. Subtle, malignant analyses of the content of one’s writing. In humbling ourselves, in vulnerability we offer an open window to the soul. people can view the inner sanctuary of the house and come and commune. To create the life-breathing relationships it takes to make a house a home. Or vandals may enter to tear down the intricate design of the designer. Destroying and deeming worthless the beautiful paintings that may be in the process of being refurbished. They may not be as they once were, but that’s what the designer is there for... Bringing to attention what the artist intended originally. Restoring the integrity of the house. 

To write honestly, is to unveil what may be incorrect, or what is in process of being established in that inner sanctuary. To write with vulnerability is to invite others to come and view our naked hearts. It is an opportunity for our thoughts to produce what we hope for them to. To read, is to watch something blossom or infect.

Just a thought...