When you Miss Your Own Heart

Today, as I was walking up my friend's endlessly steep driveway, I stopped to admire how the recent winds how drifted the snow into layers on the snowbanks. They reminded me of the layers of uneven frosting on the first birthday cake I had baked for myself. The feeling that arose in my heart as I stood breathing in the cold air can only be described as "connectedness".

The past twenty months I felt as if part of me disappeared. I have missed writing the way I used to.
I have missed my own heart.

I never thought I'd lose myself. But I did. I lost myself between looking for a "career starting position" and trying to balance a long distance intercultural relationship.

Two people in my life have constantly been telling me to write for a long time. However, my alignment with my secret heart (muse as others would call her) has been hard to bring back. I know she is in there between the horses, history and taste of Asia I keep in my soul.

Writers, you should never neglect your muse. She is like a garden of flowers. If you stop watering your flowers, they will die. Then, you will find yourself trying to save those flowers or planting new seeds. This is not a bad thing, though. Now I can add some new flowers to my field.

I hope they grow strong with brilliant colors.

Why I walk up that steep driveway.