After everything I’ve been through, writing has been the one practice I’ve relied on to see me through.

I recently created a time and space for a group of women to explore meaning making through writing all while building our writing muscles.

I call it “Write At This Moment.”

I’m not sure why, but it feels right, writing this at this moment.

Throughout different periods of my life, writing saved me. It proved my existence. By documenting my thoughts, experiences, impressions, and ideas, I know that I am.

Transforming, shedding, unpacking, revealing what was in me at that moment, I’m better for writing my way through.

Through my teenage years when I was one of 6 minority teen girls living and schooling together in an all white town in Connecticut in the early 80s.

Through to my identity as a young adult seeking to find herself and meaning and understanding and answers and acceptance…

Through to discover young love and it’s sweetness at times.

Through relationship mishaps – breakups and breakdowns.

Through the birth of my firstborn because I wanted to remember exactly how I felt emotionally, physically, and spiritually bringing forth life from my body.

Through to honesty with myself.

Finding peace on paper by giving myself a piece of my mind, I wrote my way to clarity and confusion. I wrote my way to the dilemma of the paradox where I seem to abide a lot lately.

Writing has been my soul’s balm. And now, it’s what I think about, talk about, read about, write about the most.

I’m not sure where the desire to help others write at this moment came from. Surfacing maybe from the blogging, but then again maybe it was in me all the time. It needed time to take root and reveal itself. This writing feels better than blogging. It feels bigger too.

Writing is active and has to be practiced regularly for it to become a natural extension of our genius. Most important, it’s a form of internal communication that has the power to see us through, especially when we write at this moment.