There’s magic in writing and being able to express how one feels using the means of words: meaningless letters combined, turned into words that can actually ignite a spark of passion within you; a spark you may have thought you’ve lost.

It’s no different to life really. Finding the right words to perfectly paint a picture, or to tell a story where you can also see it in your mind’s eye. Get to feel the feelings, the ups and downs, the smells and the environment as if you are part of the story. You get to know the characters and shift ever closer to the edge of your seat with anticipation of what’s to come as the plot thickens and you cannot seem to get enough of it. That’s what I call an exciting book.

Have you had a book like that before? One you simply cannot put down?

Personally, I love an old book: the hard cover, the slightly yellow pages where you can feel the quality and thickness of the pages as you flick through them. Some books so old that you had to cut open each page yourself as printers didn’t have the capability of doing so when book printing started. Every page a gift as you gracefully tear it open to give birth to the words in order for the story to continue.

It brings the feeling like there’s lost magic in an old book. Stories not told enough: old tales, wise tales. And for the smell: they carry a certain aroma like when you walk into an old person’s house and it’s a bit musky, but you know that even old people carry much wisdom, like old book do. We can learn so much from them.

I cannot help but feel like we have lost it somehow; the knowledge I mean: the knowledge of old and how to do things the right way instead of just the quick way. We have all become industrialised and nothing is the same as before: having empathy, kindness, manners, and respect. All these I feel is so important to be considered a half-decent human being.

The purpose of any book is to share the knowledge we, the authors have, or to entertain through novels and telling of stories. There’s no reward if I were to keep it all to myself when a passion to write present itself.

We all create but the questions is on what level and how?

I am the master of creation in my reality, the one I am creating now with every word I type. Every word being a feeling, a thought, a sensation. A word on its own may mean nothing to me or to you: it’s simply a word, but a few words put together is where the magic is, and the magic we seek but are so scared to find. Like it’s meant for everyone else but us. You’ve never been so wrong.

Expressing love through words for example I can simply say to you that “I love you,” or I can say, “I find myself looking at the moon every night and I think of you. You’re never far from my thoughts. My heart is yours for as long as the there’s a night sky, as you are my moon. Without you I will be the darkness and my life will be an empty void just as the sky will be nothing without the moon as she gives hope where there is none.”

What’s a life worth living if not one with lessons which include journeys of bravery or heartache, we fall but get up again, finding the strength to succeed no matter what obstacles present themselves.  Like chapters in a book: we are all currently writing our own book called “life,” and it’s purpose that feeds the soul.

I could sit and do nothing and allow the nights to become day and day become night or I can decide for it to become an adventure. We all start with nothing but as long as we are willing to build on our foundations we’re creating meaning and purpose for ourselves. Compare life to a game of ‘Jenga,’ if you don’t find the balance it will all be coming crashing down.

Each building block representing our relationships, friendships, trust, love, and compassion. Never stop building on the story you want to create for yourself, because every action has neutral or opposite reaction. We all have a choice of what we allow or decline. There’s power in saying ‘No,’ although I don’t think many have come to that realisation.

Never allow your imagination to stop running wild: wondering and creating.  It’s purpose that drive us to become the success we have envisioned when we were young: 7, 8 or 9 years old; running around in make-believe nurse outfits, kissing our wounds and the wounds of others because we just want the world to be a happy place.

A book may have an ending but I don’t believe in endings. It’s only an end to yet another chapter of a long list of chapters. I believe in new beginnings and new adventures. Even after this life there is no death: only a new beginning in yet another form expressing itself in a new way.

Write your story by taking the first step. One step is better than none at all. Make today the day where you will try something new; at least once, and twice if you like it.

Article by Chrysilla Lewies

Picture: Instagram – @Jen_Mazza