Thomas Merton wrote, "If a writer is so cautious that he never writes anything that cannot be critisized, he will never write anything that can be read. If you want to help other people you have to got to make up your mind to write things that some men will condemn."
I am sitting here with a towel wrapped around my head, a cup of black coffee sits next to me on top of neuroscience papers, and U2 plays in the background, "all roads lead to where you are..." I have five minutes before I need to be out the door and all I want to do is sit here and write. I want to expose the inner workings of my heart on a blank cyber page, for no particular reason except that I feel the need to. My life has taken so many turns. Yesterday I wrote a list of all the undergratuate courses I've taken--I am five classes away from getting my degree in Pre-physical therapy. But some of my closest friends have been watching me with their spirit-eyes and see another Lauren all together. Not a studious, scientific girl--but a writer, a lover of words, a seeker of adventure stories. They see chapters turning as the pages of my life fill with spontaneous encounters and exciting travels. Last year I went to Africa for three and a half weeks on a mission, then I went to Hawaii with my grandmother to meet an incredible woman whose story needs to be told. I am sitting here, in the throws of my junior year in school, about to change entirely. The pendulum swings from scientific jargon to studying Great Brittish writers from the past. Who knew that under the layers of self and ambition was a girl radiating words. These words seem to seap out of the pores of my being and have been whispering to my friends, "Tell her. Tell her she's a writer." And they did. Four of them, on the same day, one at a time told me..."Lauren, are you sure you want to be a physical therapist? I think you should be a writer." I'm in shock. Has my inner voice betrayed me? Why did I cry at the liberation I felt upon hearing these words? Should I cut the prickly rope that holds me to the dead weight of a career I thought was for me? What about all the time and money spent on getting those prerequesite courses? And in the background Bono sings, "all roads lead to where you are..." I think I'm going to be ok. As Corey Beals said, "You're not quitting. You're moving beyond." So, I guess this is the time. I think it's true. I'm in the Write place.
