When the sun and moon meet.
Friday April 14th, 2017
I checked-off one of my four-year goals this morning when I opened the Northwest Guardian. My article about the Gladiator Challenge was published.
Another milestone crossed.
I’m a journalist, and now I finally feel like one. I’m a storyteller. I get paid to write.
Okay, okay. I’ll stop bragging. But I’m that woman! I am making a living off of my writing. Not rich, no. Money isn’t the best thing in the world, but my resume is pretty impressive as it builds, as the stories pile up and as I have the pleasure of writing them.
There are so many untold ones.
But what’s so satisfactory about telling? Why must a something go somewhere and do a thing? Why can’t it just be internal and unshared?
We all want something to connect with, to connect to. Right? In a world where many find solace and sanctuary in disconnect, I find satisfaction and strength in connecting. In building relationships. In knowing.
My mentor once said, “The reason I know something is because I wrote about it.”
I feel the same way. I know things because I heard the story, transcribed it and shared it.
Why must I know? What’s the power in knowledge as the cliche goes? Is it dangerous to be knowledgeable and aware?
Maybe there’s respectability in knowing and passing it along to someone else. To someone who has never known or never seen or never heard.
You tell me. And I tell you. Who tells someone else. It goes round and round and round, like the sun and moon chasing each other; one day they’ll meet and that is when it all begins
The story begins when the sun and moon finally meet.