PARADOXICAL

Right after her opening prayer, Sr. Faustina didn't waste time saying the reason for writing her diary: it's because the Lord told her to. This touched me immensely because I was forced to ask the question of why yet again. I have answered this question for myself before, but the fact that I had to ask again is quite telling. Maybe I wasn't very much honest about myself?

Why indeed do I write, and write what I write? Is my reason worldly?

Do I write because I want to be noticed, in which case I am KSP or kulang sa pansin in Tagalog? I don't know. Maybe, but that's so childish.
Do I write to charm people in the hope of romance? This, too, but it's quite cheap.
Do I write because I want to be famous? Possibly, but then I am scared of fame.
Do I write because I want to be acknowledged for my writing ability? Possibly.
Do I write because I want to promote my writing and earn from it? Is that so bad?
Do I write out of boredom? to rise above the drudgery, the ordinary?
Do I write because I want to be recognized for something, make my mark in the world, to have a stab at worldly immortality? May be legit but still worldly.

Do I write because I am repairing something in my past, because I am the bright one in the family and I have to live it and constantly underline it?
Do I write because I have a reputation to protect and uphold, because society expects me to, because a consistent honor student is expected to participate in building society if not contribute in concrete?
Do I write because I am angry? because I want take revenge after I was fired in my first job, a writing job?

Do I write out of insecurity, because I want to make something, anything, of myself because I lack any sort of achievement in life?

Do I write out of fear, i.e., if I didn't write or said my piece, I'd be punished, I'd be committing a sin of omission?

Do I write out of compulsion, for some other reason I failed to state above? Is my writing all about me and my desire to be always right and to look good?
Do I write because of passion, because of my genuine love for the craft, whether or not acknowledged by whoever gave it to me? Do I write because I am thankful for the gift and feel responsible for developing at it?

Finally, is it because the Lord told me to? Do I write to help others, to instruct out of charity, to be a prophet of sorts? Was I called to be that, in the first place, or am I deluding myself, appointing myself for the task?

Without God's direct voice saying so, I will never have Sr. Faustina's clarity. And with my great capacity for denial and self-deception, I don't trust my own answer.

When I put my main blog in private mode, I practically killed it by keeping the rest of the world off it. Deprived of an audience, imagined or real, what it is for? Surprisingly, I didn't feel any strong withdrawal effects, except to repost in a new blog a few of the things I thought should be shared to the public. At this specific instance, my motive is clear: I write because I want to share knowledge to a greater number of people, something I hope they would find helpful at least in terms of ethnic pride.

Let the chips fall where they may: Let my own writing output convict me, if not this Lent, then in the coming days.