Every time I write, I leave a little bit of my soul on the page (or screen)

Every time I write, I leave a little bit of my soul on the page (or screen)
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I created the image to recall one of the best days of my life. I was in the US Navy, and my ship made a liberty port call in Rhodes, Greece. On one of my liberty days, I wandered away from a group of friends, searching for the best bars in the area. I wasn't interested in any more drinking that day, so I broke the rule and ventured off on my own. I was always a nonconformist in the Navy, so I started walking past the edge of town until the road turned to dirt, and I was walking through beautiful countryside.

I finally stopped and sat under a tree. Almost unconsciously, I pulled out my notebook and began to write. I sat there for hours with only bottled water and felt like I was in Nirvana. I've written about this before:

Sitting Under A Tree In Greece
When I was in the Navy, in the Summer of 1999, I had a liberty call in Rhodes, Greece. It was a beautiful place that I still consider one of my favorites. The markets and restaurants were excellent, and the people were so friendly to me. I was with a

I bring this up again because I realize that I put so much of myself into my writing that it feels like I figuratively bleed when I write. Memories flood back into my consciousness, and I relive those moments with absolute clarity. Even now, I sense that part of me is finding its way onto the computer screen without being able to stop the process. It doesn't hurt; it feels cathartic in a spiritual sort of way. At least, that is the best way I can describe it.

I'll never be a clever writer. My snarking phase is over. I try to write about Kindness and how it has been affected by everyday life, about coping with what life has thrown at me, and about my excellent relationship with Hal. These things are important to me, and I want to share them.

I sound overly emotional, and I suppose that is true because I never let emotion enter my world or how I viewed life in the past. I sought to bend the world to my will rather than embrace the beautiful things surrounding us daily. I know that time was wasted, and I will never have a chance to correct the errors I made when I was younger. All I can do is make the best of each data from now on and try to be a better person today than I was yesterday.

Therefore, writing is a terrific outlet for my emotions. I never want my feelings bottled up inside me again because that is a self-inflicted cancer that kills just as surely as the actual disease. My writing has allowed parts of me that were hidden away to return to the surface, if only to be released and then never return.

Every few months, I read my writing with a neutral eye and am amazed at the changes I can see. I see growth and the emergence of a new and improved me when I compare what I thought months or years ago to the present day.

I find myself content more than I have ever been with my life. I played the game and accumulated material possessions, but now I find that the simple things mean the most to me. I am typing this entry and bleeding figuratively on the screen on an older model MacBook; in the past, I would be scheming ways to upgrade to the newest model, but now I am content to use this MacBook until it finally stops working, which hopefully, won't be for a long time.

I feel the past as if it were here right now. I lose myself in writing, but I doubt I will ever write that viral story. I'm OK with that as long as I remain true to myself. Writing is a spiritual experience for me.

I am happy with my efforts. I don't worry about earnings because that was never my intention. Medium and I had a love-hate relationship in the past, but then I realized that I never wanted writing to seem like work. I write when the mood strikes me, and when inspiration subsides, I move on to other things in my life instead of worrying about why I ran out of ideas.

Strangely, I am relieved that I never struck the viral story motherload. I can't imagine the pressure of maintaining a certain level of excellence when I write for pleasure. Perhaps it is a lack of self-confidence. My therapist will probably know the answer to that one, but I no longer put that pressure on myself. I am grateful for everyone who takes the time to read my articles and even more thankful for those who comment constructively. No one needs yet another critic in their lives, am I right?

If you haven't guessed by now, I tend to follow a stream-of-consciousness approach to my writing. Sometimes, it doesn't make sense even to me, but I keep at it until something intelligible, at least in my mind, emerges.

I need to experiment more with writing as a commentator on subjects, but I am afraid that I will slip back into my old habits of snarkiness for its own sake. It is difficult for me to stay on a subject that thousands of others have covered before. I never feel my writing is adequate to the task. Near the end of this writing mini-session, I have new thoughts to ponder before I resume later.

I am happy with my new resolution to write and finish at least one story per day. Once I establish that routine, I am sure that creating additional stories will be easier. Until then, I will proceed with my plan and embrace the happiness that I feel from it.

Be Kind to one another.