I arrived back from a retreat with my head full of thoughts. The weekend was part retreat, part self-discovery, part healing, part learning to live and breathe again.
A lot of moments happened. Many moments that were ridiculous or fun. Moments that were straight up profound.
I feel profoundly affected. By what I do not know and I do not even have the words to explain it.
I felt so much, and thought so much. I prayed like I have not prayed in a six months. I laughed till tears came. I smiled. I cried.
All of this happened and now in my sleep deprived, semi-caffinated state I am realizing just how much went on.
How much happened and realizing just how unable I am to put it into words.
I thought being a writer would mean being able to write about everything. It is not for lack of things to write about. It is for lack of words to express it.
As I think about my lack of words I am reminded of my favorite quote by Earnest Hemingway
Write, hard, and clear about what hurts.
I will keep writing. Even when the words are hard to come by.