Susan Cobb Beck wrote this today and I thought it was awesome! I thought my reader (whoever you are) might like it as well. Susan gave me permission to post her writing here. Thank you, Susan!
A Wake-up Call
As we grow older, we begin to realize that life is indeed short and we begin to feel rushed to complete those objectives that we have pushed to the back burners of our lives… My wake-up call came later in life than some.
Poetry on the other hand, is usually an overwhelming urge to write what comes into my thoughts, or words that form in my brain over different occurrences in life and wind up as illuminated concepts on parchment, to be viewed as through an open window into my mind.
Why do I feel the need to write?
Even from a young age, I have always wanted to write, but life got in the way. Life has a way of doing that, especially to folks like myself, who have appointed themselves as caretakers of their biological families. I have lived through many painful events in my life; survived unfortunate accidents; hurdled hindrances and obstacles that would have stopped others in their tracks, but it was those events and difficulties, which have made me the person that I am today; therefore, I cannot begrudge nor resent them in any shape, form, or fashion. I feel they have made me a better person.
I grew up among a family of storytellers. I could sit with elbows propped, chin resting on the palm of my hand for hours a listening to them tell stories of their upbringing, of their parents and grandparents; and of how it was back in those days; mentally taking notes of what I was going to write about it, when I got the chance…
I never knew my fathers parents or grandparents, or my mother’s grandparents; they all died years before I was born, but a listening to those stories told, I felt as though I was getting to know them, but it was never enough! I always felt that there was more to them; more to their lives and more, that needed telling.
In my mind, I could clearly see their lives played out as if it were a movie. I can visualize them all so clearly… hear their thoughts and feel the feelings that they felt… Places too, seem to spark that same need to write that I feel with humans. Every place has a history and a story to tell. Not just of what is now, but also what was in the past. The soil beneath our feet contains the memories of millions…
The urgency is still there; wanting to get it all in ink before my memories start to fade and my soul, weary and tired, seeks rest from this old world… will I complete all that I wish to write? Probably not, because everyday there is a new thought, a new idea, or another memory that bursts forth having been cloistered deep within the crevices of my mind, and a new place or person whose stories need telling. I will strive to finish all that I can and hope that those of you, who read my stories, novels, and poetry, will enjoy the fruits of my labor, because it is a labor of love. A love of history and kinsmen, a love of genealogy and the mysteries of the unknown… the memories that the earth holds within her grasp awaiting someone like me who will sense the essence of what remains and through reflection or perception, use those impressions to tell the story that needs to be told.
I am a lover of peace and harmony, a child of the sixties, born of two worlds; one current and one as old as time itself whose identity is no longer in doubt, for now I live and write not for the sake of others but for myself… I invite you the reader, to journey with me as I explore my new-found freedom and delve into the mysteries of our ever changing timeworn world…
23rd March 2010 © Susan Beck aka Justplainolme
All Rights Reserved. No republication of this material, in any form or medium, is permitted without express permission of the author.
Categories: Susan Cobb Beck