Why I Write: Part 2

The second part in my Why I Write series. You can read the first post here. These are not in any particular order - I have a list of reasons as to why I write and will be sharing each one as I feel so inclined. 

Why I Write: To Explore What Moves Me

"Write about what interests you, whether it is real things or imaginary things, and nothing else." C.S. Lewis."

Another reason why I write is to understand what moves me - my interests, my passions. I believe each writer is obsessed with one (or a few) specific emotions and ideas that consume them to the point where they're forced to write about them merely to keep a clear head. I know I am. I re-read everything I've written and find one particular similar strain running through each work.

For awhile I thought my overwhelming obsession was friendship. This belief was encouraged by the fact that I don't particularly care for romance novels or movies, always preferring platonic love to romantic. Don't get me wrong, I still like a well-written romance, but it has to have plenty of story to keep my attention. 

So I wrote about friendship, and continue to write about friendship. I pick up on this theme quickly in other works of fiction, and I cherish my own close friendships greatly.

Then I realized it's not just about friendship. Friendship is just a catalyst that leads to what truly moves me.

What moves me most is Sacrifice. 

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." 

Most of us are probably familiar with this verse out of The Scriptures. It speaks of sacrifice - specifically the Ultimate Sacrifice. Laying down your life to protect someone or something that you love.

This is the particular form of sacrifice that I am most enamored with, that I find myself returning to repeatedly with pen in hand, that I will shed tears over. It manages to worm its way into almost everything I write, even if this was not the original intent.

But I have to remind myself that there are other forms of sacrifice, perhaps less serious, that are important as well. It's the little things that can make such a big difference in a life. Giving some change to that panhandler on the corner. Taking a few seconds out of your day to give directions to that stranger you don't like the looks of. 

Sometimes these little sacrifices can matter just as much as the bigger ones. And that's something I would do well to remember. In my obsession with giving it all for those you love, I could stand to be reminded of the small things that can make such a big impact on a life. 

As a writer, I write not only to share what moves me, but to explore it for my own purposes. This allows me to more intimately understand it. And expressing it is helps me keep a level head. This investigation helps me to grow. So here's to sacrifice - in both big ways and small.

Dream On

Have you ever woken up and felt like you managed to live three or four lifetimes since the last time you were conscious? Has it all felt so real to you that you had to take the time to sort through your memories and determine was is real and what is just imaginings?

That was me yesterday morning. I remember waking up the instant my alarm went off, but it took six more seconds for me to regain my wits enough to turn it off.

It took a shower, a cinnamon roll, and some music by Barcelona before I figured out what was and wasn't real. It had all been so vivid. And it had all been so intense. 

I remember dreaming about traveling. Road-trip to Arizona, I believe. I remember wrangling two beautiful horses - a bay and a palomino  I remember meeting a couple of celebrities - and that's all I'm saying on that.

These dreams remind me of the time I woke up and honestly thought I was a character from a TV show - yeah, that time. I've never been so totally and utterly confused in my life. It took a few minutes to come to terms with the fact that reality was my bedroom, my snoring sister, and my blurry vision.

I dream a lot, about a wide variety of things. Through the years I've had a tendency to dream in black and white, although I've noticed that inclination diminishing recently. However, my dreams are still silent - there's never any sound. I'm not exactly sure how that works - telepathy? - but it all makes perfect sense while I'm dreaming it.

I guess that last sentence says it all. It's all so real and fantastic while dreaming it, and you never want it to end (except for those horrible dreams about deadlines and bad grades and such). And then suddenly you're snapped back to reality.

But you know what? That's okay. Because dreams give us something to aspire to. They prompt us to live a better life. They motive us to make the dream become reality. So here's to the magic of dreams, and the ways in which they move us.