The beauty of handwriting and expressing in your native language.
Just as the beauty of a type writer can never be replaced by a laptop, cell phone, note-pad or VR goggles, similarly, writing with your hands has its own charm. When I write in my journal, I feel like words are pouring from my heart. I don’t need to worry about the aesthetics, and the ink etched on the paper magically creates an ambiance. The ink, pen and the emotions conspire to create a mosaic on the page, I’m just a medium.
It is only by putting it into words that I make it whole. This wholeness means that it has lost its power to hurt me; it gives me, perhaps because by doing so I take away the pain, a great delight to put the words together. — Virginia Woolf
Every form of art has been inspired by the Universe. The Creator is reading his own self and writing on the blank sheet of nothingness. His ink is the Ocean of Love, the pen is his power of will and the sheet is his infinite nature. Together they write His destiny.
We are simply letters in His Divine Book.
Writing in my native language gives me the feeling I get when I spend intimate time with my family. As I place the pen on the page, the words are released from the unknown and assemble on their new territory, just as souls descend from the heavens and enter the body. They breathe, eat, play and sleep, but most of all, they want to be read. That tickles their tiny inky bodies and calms them down. They speak to you, if you have faith in them, and take you to the unseen realm.
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