I’ve always thought of my love of reading fiction as an escape. An escape from the mundane, the routine, the hustle of life. But what if it wasn’t an escape at all, but a means of survival?
When I slow down, I realize that it is in the NOT doing that I discover more about myself. All the little things I am drawn towards are like bursts of confirmation that my
intuition is guiding me in the right direction. Including what I am reading.
Think about what you have been drawn towards reading recently:
⁘ What kinds of stories capture your emotions?
⁘ What are the themes of these stories?
⁘ What types of characters are you drawn towards?
⁘ Can you make connections between what your mind is craving and what is going on in your life?
I’ve recently realized that my fascination with the villain or anti-hero in the story has been a way to examine my own shadows. The turmoil, the forbidden, the darkness of these characters gave me a safe place to look at my own darkness. And now the craving to bring to life my own experiences through my own characters.
In my conscious state, I have been burying my shadows deep for a a long time… and even planting deceivingly pretty flowers on to. When you label a hobby as just an escape, it actually gives you permission to dig into the parts of yourself that you don’t want to bring into the light. The things you can only avoid for so long until until they start to scream at you like a raging toddler, demanding attention in exchange for soul growth.
