I often find myself going through artistic phases: I draw, I sew, I turn old things into new, and sometimes, but more often than not I find myself writing. I have a countless number of journals, four of which I write in consistently (each journal has its very own purpose, of course). The pen to paper is to me romantic, whimsical, meaningful, beautiful and almost forgotten in this era.

I have found myself falling deeper into a love affair with written (even, spoken) expression. To my mom that is no shocker. For as long as I can remember, she’s loved reading my papers in school, the blogs that I now write and everything else that fell in between. For me, I never really noticed how much I loved writing. It is simply a part of who I am. And then I realized it’s a part of who I am. It seems the realization was something I desperately needed.

Admittedly, I am not a very practiced writer, nor do I feel I always have something important to say. There are many times where words are not necessary; the silence, a soft touch or a look might be all the communication that is needed in a moment. However, I have found that there are many, many words that need to be said. There are millions of people every day who do not get to say or write or express what needs to be communicated. Their voices are smothered and silenced. These are the voices of the oppressed. The enslaved. The persecuted. The tortured. The forgotten. I’ve discovered that more important to me than any silk, any beautiful design, any poem is this raging passion to speak for those who do not have the chance.

In order to cultivate this passion (seeing as “cultivate” is the buzzword on this blog) I am headed back to school. This is kind of a hand in hand announcement, I suppose, because this also means I’ll be closing up shop. That’s right, I’m bidding adieu to Ania Designs (and silk, and marketing, and business, and lace…). I have come to realize that when you take time to discover your passion, what truly makes your heart beat, what really sends the blood coursing through your veins, you must take time to cultivate and follow that passion.

Here is a poem I wrote a few weeks ago. I was having a stunning conversation with a friend of mine about love and risk, and even though that was the subject matter in mind when writing, somehow it seems this string of words may fit a number of scenarios. I hope you enjoy.

Life seems to be shades of grey
Seemingly imperfect visions of
What is or is to come
The warmest sun
The coldest wind
Are reminders of truth and reality
Amidst the confusion
As life gives nothing we expect
But all that we hope for
It’s all greyscale
And struggling to find the eye
In the ever pressing storm
The yes and the no
And into the water are only my toes
When deep inside my heart
It screams I should simply jump in
To the dark, the depths, the unknown
That I might explore and taste
Only the most beautiful adventure to be had
A complete surrender and lack of fear
To immerse my life in love and sacrifice