It has been a while.
This journey of mine.
The life of self discovery and self development. This magnificent quest of not waiting any longer for something to happen in my life, but having the guts instead to make it happen.
I look back at the many pieces of writing staring back, neatly labeled in my writing folder and I wonder who wrote them, how this person found the time, and where all those pockets of thought came from?
When I made the choice to get at it, I promised myself that I wouldn’t ask if my thoughts were any good. I was advised early on that doing so was a deathly trap for a writer, an artist, or anyone else starting anything, really.
I made a vow to do the best I can, with what time and energy I could steal away, and that one day I would present my work in some kind of published corpus. Somewhere, somehow, in some distant future.
That somewhere and that distant future is drawing closer and closer. I am on the verge of self publishing my first set of books this summer and my heart is palpitating a little.
I thought I would face agonizing reservations. I thought my self doubts would beat me down, but its as though they have accepted the fact that we are actually doing this. It’s as though my doubts and fears are resigned that there is no use to resist. That we are strapped into our freshly painted rollercoaster car. Cherry red and smooth to the touch. That we are in the midst of being pulled up to the top, and there is just no use protesting, because everything is now up to someone else, something else.
Fate. Destiny and the Laws of Gravity.
I am writing today to remind you that its your turn too.
I think you should take your work a little more seriously, if you’ve neglecting it.
I think you should give yourself some credit.
Respect your talents.
Discover what they are. Feed yourself the knowledge you need.
Spend no more time in self-criticism and self-doubt.
Form habits that will uplift you. Habits that will commit your life to a process that will support your dreams.
The other day I went out with some friends for a pint of beer.
It was cold and delicious, if you are dying to know.
And I realized something profound that evening. I realized that I have somehow managed to surround myself with many very optimistic, kind, supportive people. It seems that I’m surrounded with a blanket of great hope.
I realized this because the company I was sharing a beer with was very reserved. Not mean in any sense. They are lovely people, but negative and doubtful. Our conversation revealed that they wanted to be hopeful, but they resigned themselves to the undeniable fact that their work would ultimately fail. They submitted to the idea that their dreams won’t really come true. That its best to prepare for disappointment, because it takes some of the impending sting away.
I did not relish that evening in the least.
I have no grand illusions of grandeur.
I am well aware of the fact that my hard work might in the end be nothing more than a fart in the wind, and have little impact on anyone. I realize that despite everything I desire, I might not be able to turn my passion for writing into a viable career.
The future is certainly not in my hands.
I know I can fail. I realize that my work may not be good enough.
But I also know that I control the here and now.
I decide what I do today.
I control who I listen to and surround myself with.
I believe its your turn.
It’s your time.
A time not to listen to your friends.
A moment to ignore yourself, if you think your work is stupid or unimportant, or won’t lead anywhere.
Don’t accept defeat before you begin.
Doing so won’t lead you where you want to be and is a deadly recipe for restlessness.
This is your time.
It’s your turn.
You should believe it.
Act accordingly.
