A funny thing happened on the way to this blog post. Actually, many things happened, and not all of them are funny. You may laugh if you wish, though, because the circuitous wanderings are ludicrous. It’s taken many months to come this far and the encouragement to travel to this point has come from many directions, including my loving daughter, many friends, and fellow writers. I even made a promise to a dear “accountability” friend to write 5 blog entries before Nov. 5. (Yes, I’m well aware that date is drawing nigh.)
I’ve written some articles, but never revised or posted them. That’s kind of like mapping out your journey and then spontaneously choosing to go a different route. One topic I addressed was on “The Writer’s War.” Shortly after that, I heard about Steven Pressfield’s book, “The War of Art,” which is now on my to-buy list. Truly, I feel like I’ve been in a war, but how much of it is self-induced, I wonder as I wander.
Today, going through cyper-space on my way to WordPress, I read and replied to several emails about piano lesson rescheduling, looked over and printed a 23-page paper I have to edit, read a few other people’s blogs, purchased a Groupon, renewed my membership to a professional organization, read some more emails, and oh yes, took several side trips to the kitchen (refilled my coffee cup, crunched some chips, finished the vanilla yogurt – with added coconut and sunflower seeds – yum!), and even traveled to the bedroom closet for slippers for my chilly feet! It was quite a journey, all these side trips and delays at scenic points along the way.
Somehow, all of the writing ideas I had after my devotional time this morning have disappeared. (Picture a car-top carrier that wasn’t securely fastened, releasing its contents to the wind while the car blithely rolls along.) I will go back and find them, rescue the thoughts when I see the underlined words, but meanwhile, I am here, typing, putting sentences together, trying to move forward.
I also watched an author’s interview video this morning (Pete Wilson, promoting his new book about hope). He commented about the past, and letting it be the past, not impacting today. It occurred to me that hope does not look back, only forward. So I will be grateful for this moment, this feeling of freedom and release that accompanies the act of writing, without judgment, regret, or fear of failure. Getting to this point is the difficult part. Being here feels great. So I hope to be back again soon, maybe with a more direct route to the right (writing) place.