I really don’t know what to write right now. I just know that I must. I know that writing is one of my life’s greatest passions and yet, I seldom create the time and space to engage in it.

Why is it that we often neglect to dedicate time to the things we love most? Why do we allow the humdrum of the daily grind, of the world’s mess, to overwhelm us to the point of stagnation and entrapment?

Every season, every year, grows in complexity and somehow the more we know about our lives, the less capable we become of truly living them. Instead, we become embroiled in questions we alone cannot answer, problems we alone cannot solve and emotions we alone cannot recover from.

It is only when one takes a brief moment to sit still, to ponder, that new meanings, new ideas, can find their way into our minds, our hearts and spirits.

It is in these moments that we can learn to forge gratitude, start planting seeds of peace and make a return to the things which make us feel useful and whole.

This is what writing is to me, and this moment is the beginning of more.