Writing: My Gift To Me

By Paul Roberts

It’s 6:00 a.m. Christmas morning. Quiet. Cleo and I sit on the couch together while two of my other girls - Carol and Zoe - remain in bed. It feels like a bit of a gift to myself today, sitting here with my coffee cup taking the time to start my day with a bit of writing.

I told Carol that my plan for my blog today was exactly this: an early Christmas morning time of writing about whatever I found uppermost in my mind, and what I’ve found this morning is the gift of writing. It is such a simple pleasure for me. Most mornings I can be found with my Sowing Seeds journal in my lap, pen in hand, moving my thoughts from inside my head onto the paper in front of me. Today is a bit different, since my journal time is typically private. Blog writing is slower, both because I am a hunt and peck, index finger typist, and because I am a bit less transparent with my thoughts since I am daring to share them with you, with a touch of self-editing as I go.

Journal thoughts jump around more than blog thoughts, and are much more free-flowing. The nature of the writing changes just because it is typed. The whole visual look changes the tone of writing. Not that I mind that much. But I do want this blog post to reflect, somewhat, the feel of that private journal time.

I am still intrigued by the feelings involved in this process. Why is writing the gift that it is to me? Why is reading the gift that it is to me? What is it about manipulating language that brings about such pleasure? 

A few days ago I had the chance to substitute teach again at Kellogg High School, and I even got to be in my old room for a couple of periods. The day before Christmas break is pretty relaxed, and provided me the opportunity to visit with a brother and sister who are somewhat new to the Silver Valley. They are tri-lingual, easily speaking excellent American standard English in their classes, interspersed with private conversation in both Hindi and Punjabi. Keshvi, the older sister to Manik, is even learning Spanish while at KHS. I think they were pleased that I found pleasure in learning a smidge of their native language and alphabet.

Cogito, ergo sum.

I think, therefore I am.

I do enjoy a nice internet rabbit trail first thing in the morning.

Philosopher Rene Descartes is credited with the phrase, which apparently was first penned in his native French as “je pense, donc je suis.” Some scholars say that he felt the need to translate it from that language into Latin so that it would “have a wider reach.” Later, he expanded on the idea to read “I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am.” 

And thus, I have come to the end of the time I allotted myself for this not so guilty pleasure of writing whatever I want and sharing it with you. My gift to me on this Christmas morning.

I think, therefore I write, therefore I am. 

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Are you finding time to write just for the pleasure of writing? Write something pleasurable, and share it with our Grow Me a Story community.

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