Writing has perhaps always been a savior. It helps me capture a truth, even though I can't quite reach the heat waves rising in the road ahead of me. It helps me to heal when I fall off balance. There are times that words need to rise like steam from a boiling pot of water. And there are times they tickle me even before I know what they are. More though than anything, writing for me is like scratching the scar. I write, but the itch never goes away.
 
Journaling is the most personal writing of all. It is a private diary, mainly for our eyes only. I have been journaling off and on for fifteen years. Sometimes it has been too hard. There were too many dark truths, not ready to see the light. The spiritual walk can only be taken when the time is right and often only when a healing teacher gifts us with their love. We don't even know this, because what is dark cannot be seen. But, when the glimpse comes, and the light appears ahead, there is much writing to be done. I had my own Year of 600 Poems, when I had to carry a pad with me at all times, to capture what my spirit spoke to me. Each poem came with a feeling, often painful, but always healing. I thought my pain would never end, but it did.
 
My writing has proven to be my alcohol, the type that is 70% isopropyl. The type that cleans wounds. I often say that we suffered to get muddy and we'll have to suffer to get clean. This is still true. There is no way around feeling our hidden truths. To change, we must learn to sit still with our feelings. And this takes faith, because sometimes we think our feelings are in control. They are not and peace will return.
 
In the midst of intense feelings, give them a written voice. Acknowledge them-honor them. They will honor you in return, and let you have peace, letting your unsung ocean waves return to sea.