I have always loved to read. Fiction was my first love. Feeding me stories, helping me escape my reality. Helping me see life in a new abs different way.
Words always comforted me. I found some sort of relief in them. They would help shift me out of my present state of mind. Giving me inspiration and hope for something greater.
As I grew older, books served as a tool that helped me uncover who I was. They helped to explain behavior and thoughts, not only my own, but those around me as well.
With this greater understanding, I wasn’t so sensitive to the world around me. I didn’t feel the world wanted to hurt me.
But, more importantly, books opened my mind to thoughts and ideas that weren’t main stream in my hometown.
The new thought concepts, although new to me, held familiar undertones. Ideas of subtle energy, the Divine living within me and thoughts creating reality all made so much sense to me.
It was like these ideas were seeking me as much as I was seeking them.
They found their way to me through words. Through books. Through stories.
I am feeling a new call- something is seeking me once again. A new direction to take. New paths and ideas to explore.
Is this the Divine seeking me? In finding me, does it use my voice to express itself into the world?
I walked through a used book store the other day and the urging to browse new areas kept coming up.
I recall this same feeling when I was searching for something to help me through my depression.
This time though, I am a new seeker. One that doesn’t reside in her darkness, but stands strong in her light.
So what is seeking me?
Maybe my next book will uncover the answer to that question.
Kelly Jo xo