It’s funny.

I started this whole thing off backwards. I decided one day, “I want to write a story.” and I had a good cool story that came to mind, it would be such an epic story.

So I sat down with a pen and paper, and started to write it, just as my imagination produced it in my mind. It was free flowing and uninterrupted. I myself was reading it, living it, and wondering what would happen next. The words fell effortlessly from the pen to the paper, I was just the vessel. 

But then, that flow just stopped all together. Life took me on a detour, one I didn’t expect. I had to fight my way back, it was everything, fun, exciting, confusing, scary, and so much more. I could have stayed lost forever. But I knew my soul was on a mission. I had to get back. Set things up for the better. 

When I finally came back to my story, the one that had just come to me as a movie play within my dreams, was gone. But I had come back so different and so new that I still wanted to write, but I hovered around that story, the one I was trying to tell, the one the old me knew better. 

I thought I knew what it took to write, but little did I know, for real. 

I had high hopes it would continue to be effortless, but it wasn’t. I didn’t want to give up, so I started meditating on it, the story hidden back there, I asked for it to come forward. 

What I realized was, this story was still being told, and everything I’ve learned will be a part of it, as well as everything I continue to learn. The story wasn’t gone, it was being written in the crevasse of my mind.