No power exists in the world that is capable of destroying humans as spiritual beings.
Never had life provided so many reasons to write…the thoughts, the reflections and impressions cried out to be written down…A scribbled note could mean a death sentence…
I didn’t want to write about experiences in the camp…it was more important to express the thoughts and impressions that moved me.
It’s interesting how certain words can strike you and stick with you forever. Granted, I only saw these words written at the Dachau concentration camp in Germany a little less than a year ago while on a trip with my high school. A year can hardly be classified as ‘forever.’ But when I read those words, printed on a large white structure built to display pictures and tiny nuggets of dialogue and information from and about prisoners in that wretched place, thought into existence by a poor soul so many years before my time, I knew I would never forget them.
At the time I was about half way through with my tour through just a few countries in Europe. I had never written in a journal before the trip and, to be completely transparent, the only reason I started on the 10 hour flight to Madrid was because a good friend had bought me a travel journal as a graduation gift. I’ve always been a writer. It’s what I loved to do in high school…it’s what I was good at. But I had never written for the sheer enjoyment of it. So, as can be expected of a new personal journalist (as is expected of a new blogger), I only wrote about what was happening on the trip. I scribbled down one or two pages every few days with a brief summary of the travel itinerary. I said things like “Everything about Spain is breathtaking,” or “Saw the Pont du Gard today. Whoa!” (Now as I’m reading through it again, I can hardly keep from gagging myself. How embarrassing.)
But then I read that passage.
“I think tragedy has fueled and inspired so many of the great pieces of literature in the world today…which is a tragedy in and of itself.”
I was changed. By no means was I transformed into a brilliant poet or novelist. By no means am I a brilliant writer now, a year later. But I know that the day I read those words changed me for the better. They gave me hope. And I feel like that day sparked something in me that I had been avoiding before and have since been hiding.
I want to write. I want to inspire. And I want to be inspired. So that’s my goal. To inspire and be inspired. To say what I feel needs to be said and to learn as I go.
To quote my favorite poet, I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.