Think. Breathe. Write

I realized today that I want to write for the rest of my life. I already do it so much, and it has always meant a lot to me...but now I really know.

This afternoon I went to a memoir-writing workshop given by a woman named Delphine Red Shirt. She wrote a memoir called "Bead on an Anthill," which is about her childhood as a Lakota girl growing up on the Pine Ridge reservation. As she talked about her language and her life, she sounded so peaceful. Like she counted every single breath she took.

Originally I went to the workshop to get out of my Theological Themes in Literature class (why I didn't just take P.and.A I will never know), but it turned out to be a wonderfully eye-opening experience. I'd always wanted to try my hand at remembering, but I never knew how to organize it. Memoirs aren't the same as autobiographies. You do not just start with your date of birth and end where you are now. You get to weave in and out through the loom of your memory and find what memories, thoughts, or actions speak most to you. It can be a challenge figuring out how to organize all these memories once you have written them down. I thought about that today as I wrote.

There's always been a part of me that knows I can write and wants to run with that idea. Sometimes I get to second guessing myself, and after those instances I don't write for a long time. But I don't think I'll do that again.

No promises, though.