When I was starting out, I wanted to be something, to prove myself, to be thought of well.

This caused a continual strain and fatigue. It showed in my writing – a stilted and somewhat tense way that reflected my life.

Over time, I’ve come to think of myself as more of an observer. The pressure to know anything or really to teach anything has been removed thanks to some heavy mileage in a short period of time – I no longer have to invent anything, or to appear any certain way because I consider my job simply to describe what I see.

The amazing thing about this shift is that it’s changed my life and perspective. Bad times in life make excellent writing material. Pain and suffering create the opportunity to reflect and grow and internet through writing, and on the other end of it, the reward is interesting art. There really isn’t a good or bad experience but interesting or not – and that is the gift that looking at the world as an observer can give.

Years of writing have given me the opportunity to internalize growing experiences, to be grateful for challenges, to let go of my need to be thought of as an expert of anything and to settle into just being – to learn that self importance steals away energy for learning, and it simply must go if we want to progress. Writing has offered me the opportunity to learn about myself and the world, and to take it all in as what it is: fascinating, and nothing less.