Karol asked me the other day: “Why are you writing?”
This question has become for me the Seed. This question has become a singpost, a landmark, a koan, that does not have any logical graspable answer, yet changes everything just by being asked, just by being present.
Why am I writing?
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Why am I writing?
I am writing because I am called to write.
I am writing in a futile but very human attempt to try to grasp and embrace at least partly what is happening in my world.
I am writing to bear witness.
I am writing to sing the songs of Awe. It is my personal way to honour Life that I witness and cherish, as Awe is the gateway of allowing the inexplicable and ungraspable Universe in. I am writing to allow the Universe in.
I am writing because I believe in the power of words to inspire. To tell stories that bring Aliveness and Possibilities.
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Is it me who is writing?
I don’t have much hope and I have a lot of commitment.
Yet there is so much hope in my writing. Where is it coming from?
I sit to write about something and something else gets written.
I surrender.
