"How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live."
As a strong believer in these wise words of Henry David Thoreau I have often become hesitant in fueling my passion to write, forcing my back to the ropes with the question:
"Have you lived?"
Or better yet...
"Are you living?"
And being the simple being that many of us tend to evolve from, I tried to find the answer. But the answer was in front of me all the while. If you have to question whether or not you're living... you're not. And if one does it right, there will never be a point when one can say "I have lived" because life only ends when we decide to leave it to be amongst the walking dead.
Words mean more when they grow with you. Simultaneously living and writing gives depth to those lines previously penned.
Growth. An essential factor in the act of "living".
My words will have no meaning unless I take them with me throughout life.
We coexist. We evolve.
Below is the piece that led to my epiphany.
I have so many journals
yet I don't write.
Hundreds of blank pages
on which I draw more blanks.
Plenty of lines on a sheet
but I still can't fill them
... and why?
Because in order to exist...
Words need Inspiration.
Inspiration needs Experience.
Experience needs Life.
So it's safe to say that Words need Life....
a Life that I must breathe into them....
But have not yet found for myself.
I must pick up my pen... to live.