Reviving a passion

The first hints that I had that writing was more to me than something I did to get good grades at school when I saw how much joy I gained from writing long love letters to Kathryn, my first girlfriend. In late1988, with Year 12 having ended, along with that relationship which I had allowed to flicker out, I spent many hours writing in my diary. It was a long piece about how I was and who I wanted to be. It's a piece of surprising maturity, I knew even then that a wife and family was going to be very important to me and that the type of person that I would share my life with mattered far more than her looks or accomplishments. I look back on it and realise I did not fail myself on that front, once I finally developed the nerve to play the game instead of spectate. My 18 year old self would have been very pleased to know that he would one day have a wife like Kristy and a daughter like Cassie.

What I remember most, though, is how I felt while I was writing it. It was empowering, I was burning with excitement and power, it was a creative flame erupting inside me. The joy of the moment was such that I found myself diverging from my thoughts to record that "I am writing brilliantly at the moment." A quarter century on, I look back at that night and realise just how truthful I was being. I *was* brilliant. Writing was seducing me that night, inviting me to be her lover, to seek her rewards, to take a journey with her. Writing was showing me what was possible and asking me to give myself over to her. She was asking me to commit to her with my heart and soul.

But we know about young men and commitment. Writing, like any true lover, expects much of you in return for stoking that flame inside you. She has her expectations. And her tests. I took the road more travelled by. I refused the temptation. I read obsessively but wrote only sporadically. The fire of that night faded to embers, periodically stoked by an email or a travelogue or a journal post, powerfully written but just a monologue. 

I failed the test. Writing has been a path that I refused to take even though it beckoned to me. I denied who I was and I have kept right on denying it. Not the first time in my life that happened! I would not accept who I was. I wouldn't accept that failure was part of the equation, that one could give everything to a passion and come up with very little to show for it. I never realised that it is the journey that matters, not the destination.

And so here I am, making restitution to my younger self at the keyboard. Can one resurrect a failed love affair? Is it too late to become the person you always wanted to be? 

Who am I now? I am a husband. I am a father. I am an educator. I am a learner. I am a reader. I am a chess player. I am a man trying to live a life that's closer to his dreams.

Along with those things, I am a writer. It's been a terribly private journey, with so much of my writing aimed at an audience of one. That is the thing I seek to change about my writing. I shall continue to write and I shall seek an audience for my writings. I have so much that I want to say and I am going to say it. There are stories I want to tell, there are ideas I want to explore, there are passions and beliefs I want to share. I want to think of this piece when my life ebbs away and know that I didn't pass up the opportunity a second time, that I took the time to pursue my lone creative passion!

I hope you will join me on this path and that my passion for writing will liven up your day from time to time.