Why I Write

It’s been a while since I posted anything here. There has been a lot going on in my mind but I’ve not been able to do much:

First, I need to write (typing actually) on care for the natural environment.

Then, I have a plan to write something on Science and Religion; that they are not antagonistic but are complementary. But before that, I need to read two books.

Also it has been on my mind for a long time to write about the need for in-depth knowledge and not simply superficial collection of information… something like someone’s statement that American spirituality is a mile wide but only knee deep.

I want to write more newspaper articles on health. I also have a request to write something on epidemic prone diseases for a local radio program reader.

I have an audio of a wonderful story I recorded from Pungro about a man who was beaten to death and buried three and half feet underground, but rose again the next day. I need to convert the interview into a story.

By the year end, I want to start to write a book with some friends. The details are top secret.

There’s a newsletter I edit every month. It’s not easy to collect materials, edit, find sponsor, print, and distribute, but I hope the effort will pay off in invisible ways, that some people benefit from reading it.

I’m not a writer. I don’t have a book. I don’t have any published journal articles. All I have is a handful of newspaper articles and this blog. No one assigned me to write any of the above plans I have. I don't always enjoy writing. It's hard work and I put off half baked works for days and months. I have the liberty to discard it all and say goodbye to writing.

Yet like a fool, I struggle, suffer and push myself to turn every experience and everything I learn into written words.