The Things That Never Stop Whispering

I want to share something personal. Something a bit raw and honest about where it all started for me and why I came back to writing in the first place.

As a kid, writing was a huge part of my life.

I wrote from a very young age. When I was nine, I started a three-book series called Three Friends. I completed it a couple of years later. It was based on my adventures with two friends and all the ups and downs that came with them. Looking back, it was probably my way of processing life, although I didn't think of it that way then.

I kept writing for years.

All of it stayed in a drawer, hidden.

No audience, no plans to publish, no idea of becoming an author. I wrote because I loved it.

Some of it was stories. Some of it was personal reflections. And sometimes the words would just flow out of me, almost like they were already there before I wrote them. Years later, I learned there was a name for that: automatic writing. At the time, I had no label for it. I just knew something moved through me when I wrote.

Writing became my refuge.

Then somewhere in my mid-twenties, I stopped writing regularly. Life pulled me toward what seemed like a more rational direction. I thought the problem was me. I thought I needed to be more practical, more realistic, better at fitting in.

So I tried.

That direction never really held.

Art stayed with me through the years, and I always came back to it, but something still felt unfinished. Writing kept showing up in the background, as internal monologues, like it was waiting to be expressed.

The older I get, the more I see how strong those early pulls are. The things we naturally go toward as children often carry something real in them. Before conditioning, before expectations, before learning how success is supposed to look, there is a clear sense of attraction toward certain things.

Then life adds layers.

Practicality, expectations, beliefs, rules, moulds that are already defined.

In the process, that original pull gets quieter.

But it doesn't disappear.

It stays.

And it returns when there is space for it again, and you only notice it when you really listen.

That is what happened with writing.

After trying other things, I started writing again. At first just short content online. Then more. Then more again. Eventually, I started writing a book.

Why astral projection and lucid dreaming?

That curiosity has been there since I was young. The sense that reality is wider than what we normally notice. The interest in dreams, consciousness, and what lies beyond ordinary awareness.

Looking back, the pattern is clear.

The stories.

The art.

The automatic writing.

The curiosity about consciousness and exploration.

All of it moving in the same direction.

There is a long stretch of life where we try to become what we think we should be, while something quieter keeps pointing back to what already feels true inside.

Call it purpose.

Call it a soul calling.

Call it a personal path.

Whatever name fits, it tends to stay present.

It shows up again and again until it is acknowledged.

Follow what feels alive.

Follow what keeps returning.

Follow what doesn't leave you alone.

What belongs to you has a way of finding its way back.

Pay attention to what keeps coming back for you.

It has always been there, and it always will be.

Nurit