On Beginning

Beginnings are dramatic. Sometimes they're scary or ordinary. Perhaps there are moments when we don't know that we've begun until we're halfway there.

If you're anything like me, you're happiest in the middle of an experience: that's when the pressure is off and you've pretty much found your rhythm.

I am at the beginning of an exciting new chapter in my life. I've reached a point where I have two choices: either continue with my quotidian existence or take a risk on something which is both my passion and greatest desire. This blog, this beginning, equates to my first steps on the path of the latter choice. And what I hope to do here is write.

Writing is my comfort, my safe space, my expression. It allows me to have fun with words, play with characters and to live other lives and speak other ideas. Writing takes me places I have never been; it thrusts me into the vibrancy of my humanity and the authenticity and vulnerability of the human experience. Writing gives me a sense of purpose, of excitement, of deliberately creating a contribution to the world.

So, by way of introduction, here is a piece of my writing. And -- dare I believe it? -- this blog has officially begun.

Drawers

I left a chest of drawers behind

when the gods created me from

asteroid dust.  I remember the

oaken Babel with its brass handles.

Towards the top are smaller drawers,

a struggle to open and difficult to

reach; basal drawers slip ajar

and fit a grown-up inside them.

The inscriptions on the drawers

categorise my personality.

Near the top is one called Love,

the fullest drawer of my chest.

At our feet you’ll see Lessons:

it grows every day.  Friendship,

Family, and Fear – a block to my left.

My Hopes and Regrets are

disproportionate: that will change.

Look at Childhood, and observe those

labelled Secrets, Enthusiasm and Wit.

Some drawers are jammed,

but, the only drawer I’ll open to

share with you is marked Poetry.

In it is the workshop of my Self, where

words for this page are amassed.