I got my first diary when I was 7. But I started writing regularly from the age of 10.
As early as 10, I remember days where my heart felt so heavy with longing. An ancient, unquenchable, yearning for meaning.
I knew I’d come into this life for a specific purpose, but I couldn’t remember what.
So I wrote. I wrote about my dreams, frustrations, and longings. Silly quarrels with my sister and rants about my unfair parents.
But always, by the end of the page, I’d reach a higher perspective. Wisdom that could not come from just a child.
Through writing, I felt most connected to meaning.
Growing up, I could feel myself losing my childhood self. I was desperate to keep my zest for life, but it was slipping through my fingers.
I suffered a painful puberty. Aggressive mood swings, acne, and a deep self-loathing that lasted for years.
I felt angry, suffocated, out of control. Writing was my way to return to my true self, when everything else about me was unrecognizable.
It was my anchor.
The landscapes of my life have changed over the past 3 decades, but one thing remains the same: Me, bent over my writing, the words flowing. My heart open.
Now, I know that it was never about the pen and paper. It was my connection to my heart, my higher self, my soul.
And over the years, I’ve practiced trusting that voice.
My writing captures the rhythm, the poetry of my soul. It is not of the mind — never outlined, barely edited.
It comes from the heart, the source of ancient truths and a shared language that speaks to all souls.
This is why my writing is a remembering.
It has helped me remember who I am, my purpose. And if it touches your heart, it‘s also awakening something deep within you... A remembering.
Written with love,
Ashmi 💖 - 7 hours ago