Writing is my teacher. From this wise teacher, I am learning I and things do not necessarily follow a logical order. At best, I am a varied set of moving parts. Sometimes in concert, other times not so much. Having to live inside my sense and sensibility (or lack thereof) is part of the moving picture lesson I am learning to grasp. While I grasp this, I realise at the same time it is best to even let this go. The moving picture will keeps moving, whether I am awake or asleep. When I try to make sense of life, I know it's time to write. Writing is my pause -- the narrow passage I consciously enter to bare myself. The more I bare, more I can bear. It's then I realise I don't disappear; rather, I appear in new forms I didn't know existed. Writing helps to soothe the edges, hold the fragment and filaments together in certain and uncertain times.
From writing I am finally learning to exhale. Long live the exhaling studio!
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