I need to write like a nomad in the dessert needs water. It’s my way back home, within, to where that wellspring emerges bringing living water to my thirsty soul. I am parched. I received an internal nudge to write but find myself awaiting permission...from whom I am not quite sure. Each day I avoid putting pen to paper for fear my words are inconsequential, I distance myself that much further from That which desires to quench my thirst and sustain me. I surrender to the call to write mildly content not knowing the outcome. I will write because opting out feels like a surrender to death. I want to be fully alive and writing feels like a key part of that.