3:52 am…my mind races to decide the subject it’ll put focus on—without worry, there’s never a fear of not being read…that’s because true writers realize the distance an echo travels.
Dark ink stains the finger tips of my index and middle finger from its first introduction to pouring thoughts onto a once living tree nearly an hour ago. Since 1994 discipline has put my pen on paper the very moment I wake. I tend to enjoy the unwrapping of a day when everything that ate away at my dreams yesterday is kicked out of the offices belonging to the soul.
Helping me reach that point is a self discovered style of writing…not subject and presentation but physical showmanship and or way it’s fed through a writers attempt to share views…Not only do I name my pens because writing is a relationship…but I’m a dipper—I never fill my fountain pens with the juices that turn an in depth thought into communication. The imagination is given time to breathe while the rest of me leans forward dipping the nib into a fresh supply of Mont Blanc ink then return to the page to see where the journey’s going to take me.
It took the longest time to convince the multi personality selves I am to write then set it aside for a passerby. Most writers can’t stand the idea of people reading their attempts to paint pictures or take a reader by the hand and lead them into areas airports and bus depots haven’t figured out how to travel to.
Worldly known artist Peter Max told me, “It doesn’t belong to you. Get it out for the rest of the universe to see.”
This is why I loved the movie Julie and Julia—within the chapters I keep, it didn’t come across as a flick about cooking and the vow to make a numerous amount of meals like Julia Childs…the power of writing is the underlying vibration—because Julia loved, loved, loved to share her experiences during her quest to become an unforgettable chef…her echo was heard during an age of the internet and blogging. Julie elected to become one with the idea of being just as elegant in the kitchen and vowed to document truth—her struggles were never hidden away in caverns that overshadow the artists attempt at being seen as well as heard, the captivating tale of echoes inspires writers to keep on ticking during a tickless time in the publishing industry.
I used to spend hours on the Barnes and Noble tour talking with writers about how they desperately wanted to have their stories sitting on the shelves of well known book stores. I looked at each writer like I do radio people vowing to sell their souls to get a sample of what it’s like to open a microphone and speak seven words that can affectively change the life of a listener. The fad never matches the finish line.
Just like being a black belt in martial arts. Anyone can do it. It begins with making sure you’re never late making that monthly payment to the school. Which in the short run is an extremely important part of the puzzle—it challenges you to be disciplined to never be late. 1 in 100 people become black belts. 1 in 1,000 second degrees and so on and so on. What makes a martial artist brilliant in the way they walk isn’t how they kick and block but rather what they feed into their echo.
During my second degree testing period I was asked to present a thesis on the history of Tae Kwon Do. For the first time ever, I combined the writer in me with the wanna-be who elected to take up radio for a career. The final presentation had to be art for the ears. To reach that destination required me to leap away from the World Wide Web and physically meet one on one with the voices that have dedicated their lives to training people how to become leaders. My echo created Modern Day Masters of the Kwans which you can listen to on www.arroe.net.
Learning to pour your self back into world is the path. To stand in the mirror flooded leaves nothing for the travelers to hold on the opposite side of the mountain.
That’s my weird way of saying: Be heard
I was blasted yesterday for writing so much on Face Book—time, temp, contest details, the arrival of music. The Broadcaster in me sees FB is something other than a place to admit you are eating a peanut butter sandwich. It is with great passion that everyday I dedicate myself to a FB page and say, “Teach me how to plant the peanuts, the bread and the grape jelly that make up the energy building tasty treat.”
Broadcasting doesn’t stop on the radio and in television—you’re not always there. I ache horribly when people constantly remind me of there offices or homes never being filled with communication yet they write and write and write on Twitter and Face Book about how bad their day is, was or will be.
I totally get it…there’s nothing more refreshing that getting the junk out of the trunk. It’s my daily goal to challenge just one person to take what rips them apart and locate the path that leads them back to a happier place…then share it. It reminds me of a thought that jumped from my writing hand, “People who pray make me laugh—I want, I want, please give me, Oh I need to have…I beg, I beg…” God just sits there waiting for you to stop so he can answer and by the time he’s ready to reply…everything that took you down has been freed from your path and you aren’t in the mood to listen.
Create an echo…
Positive change begins with lifting the mask off your face.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
No comments:
Post a Comment