Writing saved me from drowning, and other tales of creativity

But what of me? I was learning what it meant to be a body, but I’d lost my mind a bit in the process. After ten years, my PhD diploma that sat rolled up in a brown paper tube with Scottish postage on it. There was a beauty in pouring oneself out again and again in milk and blood. But something was missing and I wondered if it would ever return. Could I capture light and graceful sentences when I was covered in spit up for yet another year?
I needed this book not only to save me from drowning, I needed it to also speak hope and life for neighborhoods like mine where other people spent their days drowning too. Neighborhoods that have become so inward-turned that we have lost compassion, kindness, and holy imagination for a world made new. I needed a God who would wake all of us from our torpor and give us life. So, I prayed for this book, for my place, and for my own self-absorbed heart.

Read the whole thing at Fathom Magazine.