Nicole Boyce Willis is a writer, coach, and counselor sharing bits and pieces of her story and herself with those around her in hopes that Enoughness takes root and grows wings in everyone! Enoughness is not perfect and is perfect all at once. It is love and light. It is roots and wings. Enoughness is standing on the edge knowing that when we are ready what we need is there. Sound like what you need and want? She’s been working with people for years as they find their path, unearth their goals, discover what they love. She helps people do this for themselves and would love to work with you. You can connect with her on Twitter @Nicole_Boyce or Facebook or her blog.
When Erin announced she was looking for guest bloggers, I jumped: Me, me! I knew my wings would carry me and my roots would support me. I knew I had to do this. I was busy at work so I was distracted. Now I’m twisted and panicked, thinking ME?!? What if I sound stupid? What if no one likes me? Who am I to guest post? Good God!
Yeah, yeah, yeah…neuroses and the bitchy voice in my head were in full swing! And I sat there drinking (no make that downing) coffee as I reflected on my path as a writer. I see how my roots as a writer supported me for years as I found my way to let my wings expand and my Enoughness fly for the world to see. So here I am today: I am safe. I am supported. I am loved. I am ENOUGH!
Who: Nicole Boyce. Nicole Willis. Cole Cole. Sissy. Mrs. Willis. Miss Boyce. Me. I am an independent, strong-willed, beautiful woman who came into this world fully aware of my power and purpose to help others and to walk a path that was mine alone. I have to admit that I lost the me that I was born to share for a while and then re-found me.
What: Writing. Roots. Blogging. Wings. Lots and lots of writing. I have pages, journals, boxes full of writings from over the years. This is my heart, my soul, my celebrations, my devastations, my secrets, my dreams. My ENOUGHNESS. My magic. ME!
When: Writing was something I did from a very early age. My mom says she remembers me on the kitchen floor with my paper and fat pencil writing down my letters because I had to learn. I had to write. I was four. I got my first diary when I was 12. I filled it with dreams, boys, first kisses and plans for going to California. Notebooks and pretty journals were with me as I moved from Ohio to Los Angeles the morning after graduating high school. I’ve had a journal, notebook, post-it pad and pens with me at all times for as long as I can remember. I started blogging 2006 to keep my friends updated on my life after I moved to Pittsburgh. Really, writing started at four and continues as I stare down 40 in about five months. It is with me all the time. So “when” seems irrelevant now. It is me.
Where: I write on the floor, in bed, while walking in the park, in museums, on planes, in Portugal, at the beach in Los Angeles, in the country, in my car, in my head and always in my heart. I write on my blog, on my phone, in my living room and at my dining room table with coffee. There’s no place I can’t write.
Favorite places to write: Neptune’s Net (Malibu) and Phipps Conservatory (Pittsburgh).
Why: I write because it is always with me and it does not judge. I write because it is who I am. I write because it is mine and mine alone. I write because I’m in control. I write because I have power and no one can take that away from me. I write because I am losing control. I write becuase I am powerless. I write because I can see and hear clearly. I write to keep from falling apart. I write to fall apart. And then I write some more to put it all together. I write for comfort. I write. I am a writer.
My roots took to the ground at the early age of four. My mother reminds me of that spirit, that power, that child wisdom that had not been tainted. My roots grew stronger and deeper while I was growing up, losing myself only to find myself in Los Angeles. My roots grew solid and powerful as I cried under the 10 freeway underpass at National Boulevard in July of 2005 as I accepted the truth: my truth, that I had to end my marriage. It wasn’t working, it wasn’t my fault. It was time. I wrote that as a song played on the radio that crushed me and I knew I had to let go. When I got home I wrote more about this and I wrote to him. He knew. We parted and my wings started to re-emerge.
My wings grew as I set out to drive solo, well as solo as a girl can be with a bitchy cat in a loaded down car, driving from the Pacific Ocean to Pittsburgh. I cried, I wrote, and I drove. I was broken. Or so I thought. I was at an edge. I did not believe nor did I understand. Until today!
As I write this about my wings and my roots, I see now that I was cracking open and getting ready to allow my wings to flourish and grow. My wings are strong. My roots are deep.
My wings and my roots continue to strengthen and flourish. I continue to share my story with those who it resonates with and I hope that this has helped someone today see that being a writer is who I am. It is part of my ENOUGHNESS. And that is what I love. How will you honor your enoughness? How will you let the best you shine?
For me, I write, I coach, and I support myself and others, as we navigate this gift of life.
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