When I was around eleven years old, I started writing poetry, songs, and short stories.  It was an interesting time to explore music and words, feelings and thoughts.  I could never figure out from where the words and thoughts came, but they did, and I released them onto a sheet of paper like releasing an injured bird back into the sky.  They needed to be set free, where they were meant to be.  About this time, one of my classes in school was participating in a writing contest for the newspaper.  We all had to write a story and submit it.  Most kids wrote about their families or their pets, their hobbies and favorite things. They highlighted funny moments or why they liked something and politely ended their tween stories with a casual “the end.”

My story was about a nun who lived in a convent in Italy and got sick and had to be quarantined. I actually don’t remember all the details, but I do remember the setting taking place in Italy (my heritage) and how the nun was separated from the others in a medical hospital room, and how she would peer out the small glass window of the room into the hallway anxious to see someone walk by because she was so lonely.

I didn’t win the contest, but got a strong “honorable mention” in the newspaper.  It seems people prefer stories about kittens and unicorns over a nun who was separated from everyone else and trying to understand her faith.  I don’t know why I wrote that particular story.  It was unexpected, even to me.  The words were given to me like a gift, and I packaged them up for others to read. That’s my job; to let the words be seen.

I knew then that I wanted to write a book someday.  I didn’t know when or why or how or even about what, but someday.

My writing back then was a strong reflection of my maturity of spirit and of self. Even then I had compassion and a desire to create a character that would touch your soul. The nun had a contract with God and she stood true to it, looking for her loneliness to be filled while holding God strongly in her heart.

This unusual story is a perfect example of how I still, to this day, cannot stop creative and interesting thoughts from flowing into my mind, even if I want to.  They just arrive, unexpected and unannounced.

In high school, I enjoyed literature and reading, so it was natural that I progressed to college with that in mind.  During my schooling, both in high school and college, I dabbled in writing. One poem that I wrote was awarded a stamp of approval in a college class.  I tried many times to get poems published, but was unsuccessful.  I wrote on the side, when I could, and more for me, as a release for all the words that constantly battled my attention, than for any other reason.

I was not the best student in my first couple of years of college, which lead to a dysfunctional relationship with my “mentor” or guidance counselor.  It was then I started to think I had no more talent than the next guy.  I didn’t feel encouraged and even felt like I was not as good as other writers.  I put the pen down and let it go. Putting passions and gifts aside only lasts so long. Finding a new passion is difficult, but doable.

After I got married and I started to learn karate, I found martial arts to be a new passion. They were creative to me, even in their strict patterns.  Although everyone learns skills the same way, there is a personal spin or a unique touch that you can apply.  I enjoyed every minute, felt nervous at times, pushed myself, tried new things, earned black belts and learned to teach.  It was a full cycle from white belt to black and back again, continually learning and striving to be the best I could be.

I didn’t learn at a traditional school. I was taught at a recreation center so it was pay-as-you-go which worked well with my schedule. There was no contract. There was nothing to sign that said I promised to be there so many times per week or pay a certain amount of money for a year or set time.  Truthfully, I didn’t need a written contract because I was already committed and dedicated.  I made a promise to myself to continue, and I did.  That was the contract.  That was the belief. I signed on the dotted line in my mind.

Nowadays most schools require a contract.  They want you to sign and pay up front.  For some it is a business or a livelihood and based on the service being provided I’d say in most cases, it’s worth doing if you know the style, philosophy and teachers are right for you.  If those things are in place, then signing a contract is just a formality.  People sign contracts all the time.  Loans, marriages, employment, insurance. A contract is a promise and the promise is that, in the end, you will get what you signed up for.

There are plenty of contracts in life by which you abide that are unwritten. Your friendships, your family, responsibilities and commitments are a few.  Maybe you are a caregiver or a teacher, or you share resources with someone. Unwritten contracts or agreements just fall into place but that does not make them any less important or significant. There are times when unwritten contracts mean the most to you because they are heart-felt, sincere, or kind.  You willingly share something just for the sake of goodness.  Sometimes, though, a written contract feels right.  It offers credibility and strengthens an already sturdy effort.  You don’t need it, but it means something or it fulfills you.  It helps to define you in a substantial and positive way.  I never had to sign a karate contract but it doesn’t mean I would not have if the circumstances were different and I studied at a school instead of a recreation center.  Some contracts depend on the situation.

The most rewarding thing about passions is when you get to combine them.  Like a rope, they are strands that solidify each other and strengthen you.  I have been able to mesh my love of martial arts with my love for writing. I dove into to a new experience by starting a website where I could technically integrate the two.  While blogging, I met many other martial arts writers, teachers, and practitioners.  Different people presented themselves in my life for different reasons. People started to notice the value of an inspiring message and began to send me positive comments. Soon, my content funneled into various martial art related groups where I felt open and challenged about presenting my point of view.  My writing revealed itself through a mixture of life stories and martial arts and that is when I signed the subtle agreement with myself.  I will share what I know and see what happens.

With all of this writing and at the recommendation from others, I actually started to write a couple of books and was trying to figure out a direction when an unexpected “contract” revealed itself:  a book contract.   Although the contract was of paper, with a solid line for me to sign, the “contract” really had little to do with the printed paper.  The contract was between me and an 11-year-old girl who had a vision.

Slowly and reverently, the future started to unfold.  The future from the eyes of an 11-year-old girl forty-one years ago was coming to pass.

My nun story, my poetry and my other writings started to make sense. At 11 years old I saw into the future.  Of course, no publisher would ever know that I started this journey so many years ago.  I didn’t even know. Only now, looking back, can I see that the contract was written, line by line, over the course of my life.

I signed the contract.  I took a picture.  I shared the picture with all my friends and family as if to say “this is what it looks like when you believe in yourself and when someone gives you a chance to fulfill your dream.”

This, my friends, is what it feels like to Win at Life.

Andrea