Author Stanislaw J. Lec once said, “I wanted to tell the world just one word — but, unable to do that, I became a writer.” And writer Isaac Asimov confessed, “If I knew that I had only six minutes to live . . . I’d type a little faster.”
For thirty years I’ve been typing as fast as I can, and striving to distill all I could into that one special word. But unable to do that, I’ve written a number of books — each like my children and grandchildren, different from the others, and each serving a mysterious purpose waiting to be revealed.
And over the years, one of the most important things I’ve learned is the value of story — your story and mine. Your story is your treasure. So I share with you the following observations in a short essay I’ve titled, Your Life on Paper:
What if you came across a journal written by a great-grandparent? What might you feel as you turned the fragile pages to uncover secrets of your lineage that might otherwise have been lost forever? What would it be worth to reclaim a piece of living history — to read the story of someone whose choices, courage, labors and life helped make your life possible?
A sage once said, “God invented men and women because God loves stories.” And you don’t just have a story; you are a story in the making, and one worth sharing. Writing it down will take you on a journey through your own history to discover meanings you might have missed the first time around. Writing down your life lets you live it over again with the wisdom of your years.
Share your unique impressions, your disappointments and dreams. Call forth the bitter and the sweet. Write for catharsis, enjoyment, and insight. Whether you write a few pages or hundreds — someone down the trail of years will love you for it. So write for yourself and for loved ones you will never meet-for those you might wish to embrace, to encourage, to enlighten. Write so that they will know that you lived, and how you lived. Both your life and theirs will be the richer for it.
This gift to future generations starts with a single memory. Each memory will call forth another. The task may seem daunting, but one page, one memory a day, means 365 pages at year’s end. Your story can start with a sentence or with a single word: “Me . . . my life. . . this is how it happened . . . .”
In closing, from my heart to yours, I’d like to share the following short excerpt from The Laws of Spirit, when, after my adventures with a mysterious woman sage, she bids me farewell with the following words, which I extend to you:
“Even when the sky appears at its darkest, the sun shines ever upon you, love surrounds you, and the pure Light within you will guide your way home. So trust the process of your life unfolding, and know with certainty, through the peaks and valleys of your journey, that your soul rests safe and secure in the arms of Spirit.”
From a fellow traveler, wishing you good journeys,
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