Introduction

I am compelled to write, always have been and hope I always will be. Writing connects me to myself, tunes me into a different space and surfaces things that I can’t articulate verbally. The process of transferring thoughts to words enlightens me. It comforts me. Grounds me. It is a statement that I exist

I self published my first book before the age of ten. One copy remains in existance and I think I could find it if pressed. It is titled “The Horse Book” by Deborah Jean Swift. It is not about horses. But I was a horse crazy girl and I could draw a pretty good horse head so that’s what I named my first book of poetry. Hand printed and bound with brass colored brads – not that anyone who reads this will know what is.

Writing sustained me through a difficult and lonely childhood, a challenging adolescence, the first taste of freedom and six years of college. I married, started a new life, and slowly the urge to write, to wrestle, to acknowledge my self became less important. I never stopped but it became less vital as I leaped into my relationship, my career and my challenges.

But now I am called again. Called to make sense of my world through my fingertips. Called to that kinectic learning that doesn’t happen through the spoken word. Called to be seen.

Which is why now. This blog. This leap of faith. To reveal my self that has so seldom won me friends or allies. I am too big to be contained and I have too much to learn in the last third of my life. So here we are. Welcome.