Lost and Found

I can't tell you when exactly it started happening.

A particular pattern showed up in my life.

Long before I recognized what was happening, this pattern took me on a wild ride. 

A ride that would continue over two decades.

You see, for as long as I can remember, writing and words have felt like a part of my soul's identity.

Even now, I can still feel the exhilaration and desire of wanting to learn how to read and write as a little child.

At about three years old, I became obsessed with storybooks. 

One book had a matching lime-colored cassette tape.

If you don't know what this is because you're young, it's a small rectangular music storage device. Think of it as a predecessor to the CD or an iPod.

Anyway, I lost count of how many times I played, listened, and replayed that green cassette. 

I remember it like it was yesterday.

The excitement of getting the cassette player ready. 

The solid click sound that told me I had set everything up correct.

The soothing tone of the deep American voice telling me about Treasure Island.

How my imagination blossomed in new, exciting ways.

Even the way the sun moved across my room felt magical while immersed in the experience.

I followed along, matching the words on the page with the cadence of the narrator's voice. 

The chime of the bell advising me when to turn the page.

I could not get enough.

Then school started.

I had a deep sense of satisfaction as I practiced writing the alphabet over and over again. 

I perfected the shape and size of the dark grey letters on the white, blue-lined paper.

With the utmost precision, I became a master of spacing these letters.

At five years old, shaping letters with my pencil felt like a combination of art and science.

I had the focus of a brain surgeon.

My teacher noticed and praised my efforts, so I bloomed.

Then she announced a chance to level up.

Those who could write a whole week, without making a mistake, would graduate to using a pen.

One week later with a shiny gold star on my paperwork, I was writing with a blue biro.

As the only student who graduated, I carried myself with the air of a seasoned Egyptian scribe.

Then, at seven years old, I became aware of the power of comprehension. 

I learned through a series of class tests that understanding words is a power in and of itself.

If we understood words but didn't understand their meaning, then it was a waste of time.

I started thinking that this was the reason a lot of people got into arguments.

It was because words are often misunderstood.

At around ten years old, I fell in love with telling stories in a new way.

Our teacher asked us to create a personal newspaper of sorts.

She instructed us to fill it with an article, a recipe, a fiction story, a non-fiction story, rhymes or poems, and a bio.

I poured my heart and soul into it. I lost myself in the project.

Receiving my grade back made me elated.

In the top right corner of the clover-green cover, a gold sticker the size of a quarter beamed back at me.

Beside that sticker, an A+ sat proud, framed in a poppy-red colored circle.

I knew I was onto something because of the bouyant way I felt.

My teenage years were a little different to others.

While most teens were trying to get the attention of their love interest, I spent my lunch breaks at the library.

The library was like my second home.

Being surrounded by words and wisdom of authors from all around the world made me feel limitless.

I felt like I could tap into a world of possibilities.

And, with no one to bother me, I could read and learn as I pleased.

During these years I learned more about fiction, style, and prose from my teachers.

I dabbled in writing some fiction myself.

It was born from a mix of deep contemplation, romantic yearnings, and the silky overtones of Sting.

I kept writing because it made me happy.

In my mind and heart, I knew I would one day author a book.

But then, something happened.

The weekend after I finished high school, I started working full time.

Now, I was making my own money.

I felt independent.

The world opened up.

I enjoyed climbing my way up the competitive business ladder.

I had the courage and cockiness to jump between roles to further my career, faster.

The challenge of pushing against the status quo was exhilarating.

Every time I got told that something couldn't be done... I made sure it happened.

Being asked to contribute on projects and respected by my team leaders was rewarding.

Others invited me to speak at summits and recognized me.

More money started pouring in as a result.

But, the higher I climbed in my career, the less time I spent writing.

The more I collected accolades, rewards, and achievements, the more I lost myself.

My creative writing had reduced to a series of business emails filled with facts and data.

This pattern continued for years, and with it, my sparkling gift dwindled.

These days someone would tell younger me to keep a journal, but that wasn't a big thing back then.

Besides, I never enjoyed the process of keeping a journal (and still don't to this day!).

Of course, I still dabbled with writing bits and pieces over the years.

Poems to Isis. Poems to Osiris. And, poems to and about my boyfriends.

Heartfelt letters, texts, and emails of support and encouragement to family and friends.

Birthday cards with messages of empowerment and love.

And, in the last decade, ideas, brainstorming, messaging, marketing, and channeling.

All to do with business and clients.

Although fun and interesting, still, it was not the kind of writing I wanted to do.

Not the kind of writing that set my heart ablaze.

Until now.

So, why am I telling you all this?

Because, it's too easy to lose yourself without even realizing it.

Life is busy, messy, chaotic, fun, frustrating, joyous, disappointing, and crazy... all at the same time.

One minute you're a kid climbing trees and kicking a ball around a field...

The next you're an adult paying bills.

And, like a snowball effect, adulting picks up speed and momentum as it rolls down the slippery slope.

Responsibility dominates response-ability.

Routine dominates spontaneity.

Rushing dominates serenity.

Rules dominate freedom.

Rigidity dominates creativity.

Before you know it... you've contorted yourself into an oh-so-serious, boring, adult-sized, human pretzel.

And, no, it's not only you.

Take a look around, you'll see this pretzeling-pattern is rampant.

It's infected all sorts of people, of all different ages and cultures.

The older you are, the more obvious it will be.

And, I say, enough is enough!

The world does not need another person who, upon their deathbed, laments all the things they did not say and do.

The world does not need you to wish you had the courage to live a life true to yourself.

No, my friend, the world needs more from you.

Our world needs better because you can do and be better.

The world needs you to claim the courage to LIVE your life the way you want to.

The world needs you to lead with fearlessness and be true to yourself.

The world needs you to be unapologetic in sharing the REAL you.

Because, what you've got to offer, your voice, your style, your perspective, your way of being, is unique.

The gifts and talents our Creator has imbued into you, is not a mistake.

It is by design.

It is OK if you got lost and confused along the way, as many of us have.

It is all part of the journey.

The question now is, what are you going to do about it?