Power of the Written Word

I was contacted a few days ago by Melanie Bowen, a contributor at the Mesothelioma Cancer Alliance Blog. At first, when I heard who she was, I wondered why on earth she would be interested in writing a post for my blog of all places. I support her cause, of course, but I wondered to myself how I could help. I told her exactly that, but it didn't deter her, and when I read the post that she wrote, I realised just how well it fits into the theme of my blog (not that my blog really has a theme). Perhaps, actually, that is exactly why it fits in so well. A blog is not just there for a specific purpose. Well, it can be, but mine certainly isn't. It is there to write down thoughts, not caring who reads them. It is there to help those who might be feeling the same way, just to show them that they are not alone in the world. It helps the writer know that they are not alone in the world! And I can kinda see, especially after ready Melanie's blog, how that can help. So, I'll stop my rambling now and hand it over to Melanie.


THE POWER OF THE WRITTEN WORD
By Melanie Bowen


There is a magical quality about putting down our thoughts, our
dreams, our hopes, out goals, into words--it makes them seem more
real, more concrete. From the experienced writer crafting his or
her story, to the mesothelioma treatment patient expressing hopes
and feelings, writing is not only the art of self expression, it is
a powerful tool in inspiring us. Writing helps in motivating us to
achieve our ultimate goals.

A recent oncology study indicated that writing for as little as twenty
minutes a day could help a cancer patient think and feel more positive
about their disease and increase their quality of life. Researches in
Georgetown University further found that expressive writing, which
involves writing one's deepest feelings and thoughts, can result in
immediate changes of thought about illness and improve the patients
perception of a better physical quality of life in just three short
weeks. There are other advantages of writing especially for those
suffering from depression or chronic illnesses.


Seeing is Believing

From to daily to do lists to grand "bucket list" life goals, seeing
the things we want to get done on paper helps us organize our thoughts
in a way that breaks our smallest tasks and grandest hopes into real,
doable steps. It makes them real, and motivates us from the inside
to go for them and relish the satisfaction of crossing them off our
lists. Don’t let daily task or a stated prognosis or treatment stop
from from living a quality life of wellness.


Hope during Hard Times

We all have good days and bad days. Writing down our good days reminds
us during the rougher times that good things happen and keeps us
hopeful that the present darkness will give light to dawn once again.

Writing the Blues Away

We can sometimes get 'lost' in our thoughts and writing is a way
out. It helps us see the ridiculousness of irrational fears, applaud
ourselves for the noble moments, and gives even the smallest thoughts
and actions a new sense of meaningfulness that lifts the spirits no
matter what one's life situation is.

Tangible Reminders

We learn by repetition, and when we write down our hopes and our
positive thoughts, they tend to stick more. Whether in a personal
journal for your eyes only or if it is a public blog on the Internet,
both serve on the behalf of positive rewards. What is stopping you
from starting your own blog today?

Our Stories Inspire Others

When we share our defeats, perseverance and our victories, we inspire
others to push through and make it as well. There was a time when
in order to get one's story out, one had to write a lengthy book or
submit a professional article to a newspaper. But in this day and age,
anyone can share their story online through a blogging website which
reaches a vast population of young and old. It is a powerful tool and
medium to mutually encourage each other and has proved over time hope
through the written word is contagious.

Reach For Your Dream

A Cobra waiting to be started at Killarney, Cape Town.

I love children. This much should be fairly obvious given the fact that I travelled halfway across the world to teach them. I feel the need to say it, however, just in case it wasn't obvious and you didn't know. I will say it again. I love children. I love looking at them, but most of all I love the good feeling that I get from helping them, whether it comes from helping them learn English or helping them across the road; helping entertain them or helping babysit them. What can I say – I just like helping people. This is why, on Sunday, when my dad mentioned that he was going to Killarney to help some children, I jumped at the opportunity to get involved.

There may be a number of questions that you are asking yourself right now.
What the hell, you might be asking for example, is Killarney?
There may even be Cape Townians asking this question. Killarney is a race track situated along Plattekloof road where you will find all sorts of races (classic cars, motorbikes, go-carts and more) on just about every weekend. Going to Killarney was one of my favourite pastimes as a kid as I would stand on the side of the track with an ice-cold Coke in my hands, listening to the engines roar, bouncing up and down and from foot to foot from excitement and nerves whenever there was a crash and trying to spot Dad's green and yellow in the blur of colour that was the cars drifting around the bends. This pastime fell by the wayside as shopping, movies and friends became more prominent and the roar of the engines started sounding like nothing more than noise. It has been years since I had been to Killarney, and I felt that it was about time that I returned. And what better reason could there be than helping the children?

This is where your next question may come in.
How does going to Killarney help children?
My answer to this one is short and simple. Reach for a Dream. Well, perhaps that's too short and simple for some. Reach for a Dream is a foundation that helps children with life-threatening diseases reach their dreams, whether that dream is owning your own computer, being a princess for a day or even, as was the case this time around, being a professional race car driver.

Now sure, the kids weren't allowed to drive the cars. That would be a little reckless and I am not sure that too many people would hand over their cars to the hands of children. Instead, the kids were brought to Killarney and were provided with a number of cars to ride in – from Dad's classic Lotus to a stylish Ferrari and about 20 others in between. But they don't mind someone else driving – they just have the need; the need for speed. One by one the kids lined up to get a chance to ride in the cars as the drivers were given strict instructions: Be careful; Don't drive too fast; No drifting; Yada-yada-yada. No one was really interested in the rules – everyone wanted to get out on the road and the kids could hardly stand still – their anticipation getting the better of them.

Car after car was brought forward as the stewards and assistants helped the kids into their helmets (another must) and into their cars of choice. Wide eyed, they sat as the cars sped towards the starting line and, with a seemingly obligatory revving of the engine and squeal of the wheels, made their way onto the track. Round and round they went with the onlookers leaning over the cement divide and practically falling onto the tracks themselves to see what was happening and who was coming around the corners. With each whoosh of a car passing by, the waiting children became more and more eager for their turn to come around. Each car that returned saw a face grinning from ear to ear and a child running out of the car to stand in line once again.

Boerie rolls, curry and rice; fruit juice and Coca-Cola; eyes glued to the track as cars overtake each other, cringing at how close they came to colliding; jumping as a car's engine revs unexpectedly or a tyre squeals in the distance; noses stinging at the smell of burning rubber, dropped oil and used petrol. Nothing like a race at Killarney to take me back to the good old days of no-cares living. Now if only I could have hopped into one of those cars too...