To Write I Must Feel

Love + Travel turns 2!

This past Thursday marked the second anniversary of Love + Travel.

It’s a milestone reached from writing in vehicles and bookstores, on vacation, and in vulnerability. I’ve woken up early to start pieces and stayed up late to finish. I’ve tried new genres and taken big swings in the name of audacity.

Writing to you weekly requires a level of effort and patience that I couldn’t have imagined before beginning this practice. It demands I stay determined and flexible throughout. In short, it challenges me to be in integrity with who I say I want to be - a woman who makes time for what she says is important to her.

Through writing, I glimpse my relationship with myself. I see what I will and will not sacrifice. I see how I respond when things become difficult and notice familiar patterns of avoidance. Mostly I’ve found comfort in being uncomfortable when things don’t click.

“The words will come,” I say to myself, turning panic into trust. That friction, the discomfort from being patient is where the message gets distilled. It’s where I ask myself over and over again, “What is it I am trying to say?” It's the space from which I practice sharing how I feel.

And when I mine that discomfort, sitting with my humanity until an opening appears I can turn the threads of my experiences into a piece of literature. Something that makes you feel seen and a little less alone. Something that affirms we’re all the same on the inside. We all have hopes and vulnerabilities, we want to be entertained and understand the potency of love, even if we haven’t experienced it ourselves.

Wading into the murky feelings we share is the point. To write something truly meaningful, it can’t be avoided.

I can’t describe what it feels like to get caught in the rain while standing on a covered porch. I have to experience the soft massage of droplets across my shoulders and head. Know the cold displeasure of a canvas shoe flooded with every step. And how loud it becomes when thousands fall as one. It's not enough to point to the rain. I have to put it on the page. I have to write from the center of the downpour. Only then can you experience it too.

And this is why I continue to write: As a reminder the murkiness can be survived. To show the possibility of new and imagined sensations.

So, thank you for inspiring me to face myself.

Thank you for keeping me courageous.

Thank you for being part of my becoming.

Cheers to another lap around the sun.

R.

---

Thank you for buying me a coffee, ✨

Paula Aguilera

✨.

If you’d like to support my creativity too, consider upgrading your subscription or adding a book to my shelf.

---

LET ME KNOW

What’s been your favorite piece so far?

How’d you spend Memorial Day weekend? I finally saw Sinners 😍

Is there a process that offers you glimpses of yourself?

More self-portraits? Yes or yes?