Madeleine L’Engle is one of my favorite authors, both because of the content of her stories and because of who she is as a writer and person. Her books deal with difficult concepts like good and evil, conformity, and death, and are so thought-provoking as their young characters try to make sense of life. I love a lot of her quotes, but this one came to mind because for me it describes the act of writing, as well as that of teaching. When you start writing you’re often uncertain of what you want to say, uncertain of whether you have anything to so, and very much mired in your own self-doubts. The first few words could be excruciating, as you feel hyper-aware of any decisive path you endeavor to go down. But once you really get going, once you let the words lead you where they’re going and pretty much get yourself out of the way (as L’Engle often described it), then before you know it you’re writing and writing, so thoroughly enveloped in the process of writing itself, that you write all kinds of things you couldn’t have guessed you already knew, perhaps including some solutions to those former doubts. During this time you’re totally devoid of the painful self-awareness you experienced initially – and yet are also writing straight from the very marrow of your being, straight from what makes you, well, you. This paradox and the wonderful and elevating experience it can lead to is something that this quote captures and expresses very well.