Men + Myself + God

Tag: writing

What We’ve Forgotten…

by P. Braithwaite

I’ve forgotten what it means to write for myself. So much of my writing journey has been about longing: longing for my father to respect my craft, yearning to be paid for my work, yearning for more readers and recognition. The longing was palpable, it would keep me up at night or force tears from my eyes, but the irony was that the longing was an incubator. The yearning was safer than the achievement of my goals. Though I wanted more (and still do), I was content being ignored. There is a freedom that comes with no one to disappoint.

There’s something pure about the ability to easily please yourself.

I’ve forgotten what it means to write for myself. I’ve forgotten that, at the core, I am a kid with a stutter who uses letters to articulate the sounds she can’t pronounce. I’ve forgotten that writing is my safe space, and if there is anything that life has taught me it’s that we must be fierce about protecting the places we feel safest.

The world is large and challenging. People are holograms disintegrating and reorganizing before our eyes. Our communities are unstable, and it’s not going to mellow out anytime soon. We must protect the ports we find within our storm. We must anchor ourselves to the things that help us through. We must never forget our own gratification because the paradox is this: the more we indulge ourselves, the more helpful we are in the world.

I don’t know if I believe in religion. I don’t know if I will ever find a path, but what I know is that if you have a pathway to your inner temple it’s time to make the pilgrimage, and if you know where the altar is: be it within yourself, your yoga mat, your journal or your blunt, kneel before it in supplication.

Reverence is never a bad thing. All things are spiritual and filled with joy making potential.

I’ve forgotten what it means to write for myself.

Luckily, I’m beginning to remember…

 

Where’s your safe space?

Field-notes from Hiatus

by P. Braithwaite

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(I dedicate this blog post to my FIRST EVER blogging class students, who have inspired and challenged me to show up in class, in life…and on this blog.)

There are a million reasons I haven’t been blogging: laziness, busyness, preoccupation with binge-watching Downton Abbey. The idea that once you fall out of a routine, the hardest thing is getting back. Or the fleeting thought that I can’t write a blog and a book at the same time (I can). Writer’s block? Blogger’s blog? Beyoncé?

The truth is… Read the rest of this entry »

It takes a Village…

by P. Braithwaite

I was cleaning my desktop a few minutes ago; dragging, deleting, and organizing my folders. On my desktop I see my friend’s play (which is being produced in August). There is a scanned copy of another friend’s PHD personal statement (he’ll be starting on a full ride in the fall). Another friend, an accomplished writer/director, sent me an awesome screenplay to look over.

If I glance around my room, my bookshelves are lined with friends who have published; friends of who have accomplished, friends who have achieved. This year alone, I’ve found my name in three different acknowledgements. This is something that makes me so proud. I feel blessed to be trusted with great work.

In my own life, I have a mother who has proofread everything I have ever written. I have a book proposal in the inbox of three of my closest friends. My uber-talented designer friend is creating a portfolio site for me. I’ve looked at the mock up, and I’ve fallen in love with my own professional path. I’m committed to teaching a blogging class (after a year of solid denial), as a direct result of my wonderful coach who loves and supports me into my greatness. Her support is palpable; It helps me flourish.

We are all destined to become who we are meant to be. But none of us get there on our own.

It takes a village to help you realize you are what God intended. It takes a network of loving souls to midwife your highest self. It takes a lineage, the souls of those who came before us, to help us stand at the precipice of the impossible.

I don’t know where I’m going but I know I don’t go alone. I don’t know where my companions will travel, but I’m willing to help them get there.

And I know, we’re all safe in God’s hands.

And so it is…

Who is in your village? What do you contribute and receive?