There’s this crazy idea that we have to be a certain age or of a certain background or whatever in order to do something extraordinary. I think that’s crap. We all have a gift. We all have a reason to be on planet earth, but I think one of the toughest things for most people to accept or align themselves with is discovering what that incredible gift is.
Some people have crazy vocal skills, but are they rushing to the stage, picking up a mic? Or are they in studios giving their gift back to a world who needs it? Many aren’t. Some people have an artistic vision, allowing them to take a blank canvas and paint something beautiful. But are they practicing this craft? Or are they hiding from it? I write. Now, it was never my intention to seclude myself away and hide my stories from the world. I wanted to write and share my gift and my passion with others. I never had this mentality of “Oh, I’m just not ready to put myself out there like that.” Honestly, what good would that do? Of course, you have those people who write strictly to expand an already bloated ego, but regardless of the reason behind our exposing, the truth remains that we are giving back to the world that we’ve taken so much from. Emily Dickinson, now considered one of the greatest poets ever, was reluctant to publish her stuff. Can you imagine if her writing had never seen the light of day? What a tragedy that would’ve been.
This is why I write. This is why I read. This is why I buy music and go to concerts and watch movies and walk through churches and museums. A conversation is happening. One’s gifts are given to me, and I have an obligation to pass along the things I’ve learned and experienced to a world looking for answers and purpose and…obviously entertainment.
Maybe you’ve been to one of those services where a preacher or healer comes rolling into town and wows a crowd of people by healing someone’s busted leg or curing an illness or whatever. Some of you may be rolling your eyes…but it happened to me when I was a kid.
Wrap your mind around this…Power is real. It exists.
I suffered from seizures, had ear problems, and was forced to take ice-cold baths. It really sucked. My dad goes to this healer one night and the seizures cease. There’s unbelievable, poetic power in that. Power in the human touch. Power in love. Power in hate. Power in words. Power in imagery. Power in sound. These are the things that bind us. This reality of exploring a dimension many haven’t yet tapped into. It blows my mind that there is so much potential out there just waiting to be explored and experienced, but countless human beings are just too embarrassed of their gifts or believe it’s not “super” enough to be considered a gift at all. Crap. Just…crap.
Have you been waiting to use your voice? Go sing. Has your computer been calling to you, begging you to use it to write your next novel? Go write. Can you communicate with a supernatural realm which enables you to heal a dying world? Go and be that healing. You don’t have to be a celebrity. You don’t have to be a psychic. You don’t have to have a ph D.
You don’t have to be a firestarter to spread the fire!
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