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Published By Gwenith Kikkawa on June 3rd, 2016 in Circle Stories From The Heart
By Kevin Alexander, CCSS Collective Member
I have a good life, a really good life.
I have had some hardships, some broken hearts, some soul battles that I have been deeply wounded in.
I have seen death come quickly to those I love and depend upon.
I have been without a home, lost in a time of despair.
I have been deep in holes of pain that no light came threw.
But, that is not where I live these days.
Now I have a good life.
I have been able to manifest my dreams. Climb out of my deep dark hole all the way to the stars above.
I have a brilliant wife who honours me and holds space for me and listens to me.
I have a daughter who inspires me, teaches me and brings light into every corner of darkness.
I have been able to see my favourite band perform live in a brilliant venue.
I live in a time of peace and love.
I can go to the grocery store and by locally grown greens, vitamins for my health and a piece of cheesecake.
I have access to everything my heart desires.
I have my dream.
Wasn’t always like this.
Many years ago when I was in a dark hole, my life seemed to be lost in a spiral of pain.
In all that darkness I decided that the only way I wanted to live was if I was a writer.
Being a writer was not only a dream but also a great ladder to get me out of my hole.
I started by writing everyday, in a journal.
Each day I wrote was a wrung of the ladder that seemed to get me out of my soul funk one step at a time.
Becoming a writer was not something that came easily or fast.
I didn’t care about speed; I cared about the next wrung in the ladder. So I continued to write.
Then I shared my writing with the world. “Beautiful Shadows” was the name of my first blog. I would write and share and see what people liked. Sharing was the scariest step of the ladder. I was nervous in my ability.
The voices inside me repeated a mantra of ineptitude.
“You can not write. You do not know grammar. Your teachers told you that you could not write…” on and on they echoed.
I did not listen. I kept climbing the ladder one step at a time.
Every once in a while I would see light at the top of the tunnel. I would feel the wind blow on my face and know that I was climbing really high.
I had pulled myself out of the dark hole and was now in a world of light and love.
I did not stop
I had higher to go.
I kept writing, the good and bad, the rain and sun. There were so many reasons to stop writing, to stop climbing my ladder.
Every time I stopped climbing I would feel myself falling back into despair.
So I kept writing.
I started a new blog, “The Way Of The Support Worker”.
I got articles published a few times in various locations. I even thought about writing a book.
So I did.
I wrote a book, from my heart, sitting by the warm fireside in the depth of winter, I poured my heart onto the computer screen hacking away at the English language, trying to find the words to describe what I had never talked about before.
The Way Of The Support Worker, a collection of tips, anecdotes and adventures in my career as a front line support worker.
I gave it to a few publishers and got an immediate rejection, then another and another.
I did not care.
I kept climbing that ladder, one wrung as a time. Never rushing, always making sure I had my foot good and secure in my next step before I would commit and move up.
Never stopping, never rushing, just climbing.
NADD Press sent me a letter asking if they could peer review my book and if all goes well they would love to publish.
Reviews came back positive and with great notes.
Made some changes.
Signed a contract for publication
Then I waited.
Got some notes on edits.
Made the edits.
Then I waited..
For a year
I climbed that ladder, one wrung at a time. I climbed out of the dark gloom of endless pain.
I climbed to a place of love and light and support and warmth and health.
I climbed past my comfort zone, higher then I could ever imagine.
I climbed till I could not see the ground.
I climbed past the clouds, into the stratosphere, and had a picnic on the moon.
I climbed to the stars.
In the stars I was graced with the experience of holding my finished book in my hand.
Actualizing my dream in the form of a book.
I am a writer.
I live in my dreams, so they are no longer dreams but awakes.
I live in the stars, climbing still.
I have so much more to climb, so many more pieces to write.
Every task, no matter how impossible it sounds, can be done if broken down into manageable steps.
I have dreams bursting from my dreams. Each one, I know, will come clear and true, as I keep climbing.
Think of an impossible dream. Something you have secretly dreamed about but have never really thought it would be possible.
Take a moment to vision the next step you might take towards that dream.
Like me, as a writer, I started writing every day. Even before that I bought myself a nice book to write in and a nice pen.
Find a simple step that is possible and within your means of time and resources.
Now do that step until the next step becomes apparent.
You can eat a whale one bite at a time…