A good writer

I have been doing a lot of  mothering, a lot of partying, a lot of loving, a lot of laughing, a lot of thinking, a lot of paying bills, a lot of working at work, a lot of working at home and a lot of  reading and writing and not posting. I have been trying to write the way I have heard others say to write.  Write and save it on your clipboard, read it, edit it and then walk away from what you have read, do something else and come back to it, read it again, edit and then post. Well this may work for some, not for me.  I realized that I just have to write the way that I write and that is simply when I feel the words coming.  I am generally able to feel the thoughts come out at the same time I write the thoughts. I know that when I often times look back at the words that I have written I am astonished that these words in my head appeared on the screen and that I like what I read.  I am a good writer and I so enjoy reading others good writers. Writers that touch me indicate to me that they write from their truth based on their individual life experiences. 

I happen to read an article the other day in The Christian Science Monitor.  Now let me say that this is  a magazine that I have never heard of and at first found it to be a rather large magazine as far as magazines go and it reminded me of a smooth feeling newspaper.  I flipped through this January 24, 2010 edition and read an author that inspired me by what she had written.  Her name is Colleen Shaddox, I know nothing about her. As a matter of fact I haven’t even googled her. However just in the reading of her article entitled “A color-free childhood” I knew that she was real. She talks about her mother and her inability to embrace colors of any kind other than white being painted on the walls of the home. She talked about how she was the one in the family who loved color and how she painted her room in differing colors. Her mother didn’t like it. She said that when she finally was able to purchase her own house with her husband she painted their bedroom deep sage. Her mother came to visit and didn’t like it. She didn’t care.  Read it if you can find it.  Now this is just an ordinary story to some; however to me what it did was solidify how I feel about my mother.  I love her and yet we are so different in our abilities to relate to new situations that I often times become frustrated and irritated and just don’t want to hear yet another negative thing about someone. What this article showed me is that we cannot help what or who our parents were or have become; we have to honor them for giving us life. Giving us the life that we need to criticize them and look down at them and assume they no absolutely nothing.  Our mothers have had to navigate their lives the best way they know how; often times with much less introspective information that we have today. Today we mothers realize that when it is time to shut it down – we must. We realize that all conversation is not necessary. We see the value in rest which sustains us to yet do a lot of thing another day and another day and one more another day. I commend all of the colleen’s, yolande’s and teresa’s who have had to learn that being different is a gift. A gift that our mothers gave us by their example of rigidity of remaining in the ‘back in my day in their ideas. Thank you mother for this time when I am a good writer who will retire at 55 and continue remaining one within myself introspective, spiritual and fruitful.

 Yolande Barial
Your Words Project: Speaking on Purpose

Seeks to Enrich the Lives of Women through Spoken and Written Word.




“Through her inspirational writings and spiritual poetry, Yolande Barial empowers women of all ages to be on purpose.”


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