“IF THE SUN COULD WRITE, IT WOULD BE A TREE”-B.M. MONGE

Writing feels like drifting in space, staring at a vast universe of nothing but knowing there are infinite worlds to explore.  You stare down at your space shoes as they float without reason.  Below them, an intimidating abyss stretches it’s depth without an end.  Looking forward, you search for a beacon of understanding, yet there’s nothing to perceive but total darkness.  The explorer in you rejects the idea of “nothing” defining your chances of creating something.  Patience becomes a virtue.   The unclarity in direction keeps you stranded in place.  But the lack of advancement never discourages you.  Floating on your back seems to be the only comfortable position for an act of intuition to occur.  Your train of thoughts begin to manifest around you. Soon, they multiply into different carriers, until they begin to weave into one another into an indecipherable pattern.  Now you must decide on which route to explore, but which of them seems the most promising?  

Call it having intuition, call it having faith, call it having a gut feeling,  but you are driven to hop on the carrier that speaks to you the loudest.  You step in as a novice passenger but quickly seize the ship and now you are the pilot.  Mistakes are made in the beginning as you attempt to navigate.  Some are even embarrassing enough to make you question if you have what it takes.  Each mistake is a lesson learned;  you quickly realize that learning is part of the journey.  


Your endeavors take you on adventures from the edge of the universe to worlds that astonish your own imagination.  No two days are ever the same.  Some days you are part of a group of explorers searching for a gold meteor that crashed on a planet millions of years ago, but unbeknown to you, a traitor is amongst the group.  Some days you are helping Santa fight witches and werewolves in order to save Christmas.  Some days you are a highly demanded doctor who has saved countless lives but when it came to saving your own daughter, you failed.  Some days you’re just a man, searching for love.  And on some days, the dark days, you will find yourself sitting alone in the cockpit, crippled with fear and anxiety, and overwhelmed with the vast darkness of the unknown that lays ahead of you.   But just like the solar storms and the black holes you have endured, you overcome this hardship as well.

With every day that passes, you learn patience and persistence.  With every adventure you conquer, you gain wisdom and vision.  And with every character you meet, you learn empathy and compassion.   Writing has no boundaries, but it has many frontiers.   And the rewards that come with it overshadow all the struggles.  Its greatest reward is the everlasting desire to learn and expand your imagination and question the impossible.  Your dream is to one day be as big as the sun itself.  The supreme provider that sustains all life within our galaxy.  It influences everything its light touches.  It witnessed the first man to walk the Earth. Observed his existence, and witnessed his death. Soon many more followed, and he simultaneously watched over them all.  No library on Earth could compete with the amount of the stories the sun holds.  Imagine the stories the sun could tell if it could write.  You stare down at Earth from your ship, marveling about the stories and secrets the sun knows, as the blinding rays from the sun illuminates brightly from behind you.  But somehow, in your heart you know, if the sun could write, it would be a tree.

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