Writing is like creating your own oxygen line.
Words are air bubbles floating to the surface. The pen is the pump through which the air pulses. And the paper is the bellows keeping the air in circulation.
The flow of words, like oxygen, is life-sustaining, keeping me alive in a world that feels, at times, as if it's conspiring to cut off my air supply, rob me of oxygen, stifle my ability (even my desire) to write and create and see things in new ways.
But when I lift my pen and begin writing, I can feel the oxygen line open a little wider as the flow of oxygen makes its way into my bloodstream.
Each time I write, I can feel the oxygen fill my lungs--as if writing and breathing are one--and I can take a deep breath and exhale and relax as the words make their way onto the page, infusing my mind with new ideas, new ways of looking at the world, new ways of being in the world.
Day after day, each inhalation reminds me that I am alive, and each word, each sentence, as it appears on the page of my journal or work-in-progress, offers further proof that I am here, now, breathing in oxygen, exhaling words.
We are swimming together, our oxygen lines keeping us alive.
To explore further how writing is like breathing, visit: