This is the end.
The end of a year of Diggin’ Ditches.
A bitter-sweet end, but a most joyous end, none the less.
I really didn’t see this day coming. When I started writing and sharing my thoughts at the beginning of this year, I was only concerned about not slipping into my old habits, or reverting back to the person I no longer wished to be.
A year has come and gone and I have faithfully and dutifully written every day, or much as I possibly could have imagined. My little, hesitant, and sporadic writing steps, have grown steadier over time, and have now become, most dependable.
I have proven many things to myself. On this quiet, insignificant, and lonely journey.
Writing is a lonely journey. A most frustrating symphony, but a very joyous work.
I have learned that I can wake up at 4:02 am every morning, with a smile on my face, and embrace weight training, like it’s the last piece of cheesecake in my line of sight.
I have learned that it is possible to take away all emotions, suspend hopes, and must all dreams and simply retreat. Retreat to a place where all you do is follow a plan and dig ditches.
I have learned that you just wake up. Tired. Rested. Hopeful. Defeated.
No matter.
You just wake up, because it’s your time. It’s your moment. You make it your moment.
You wake up when its dark. You wake up when everyone else is asleep, and you get to work.
You get to work on your body. You get to work on your mind. You get to work on your soul.
You pick up your imperfect shovel and you heave, one pile of dirt, upon another. You transform your life, from that of a passive dreamer and observer, into a life of a professional dirt slinger.
I am a dirt slinger.
A ditch digger.
A Digger-Slinger?
I am definitely confident. Confident to finally admit that I am a writer.
A good writer?
I am hesitant.
That promotion rests in the hands of time and the bank accounts of my future readers.
This year I have wrestled with writer’s block. With my inner demons and very powerful temptations to quit. I have debated bringing this misfit blog to an end, because after a year or so, so few people have read it and care anything about it.
I want to thank them.
Thank you.
Thank you for your time. Thank you for your comments and private messages of encouragement throughout the year. It has all meant so much to me.
I cannot tell you how much you mean to me. I will be eternally grateful for your confidence in me. And the life you have help me forge.
I fought the good fight this year. I have run this race, right to the very end.
The end of 2017.
And every finale brings with it seeds of something new.
So, this is only the beginning. The beginning of year two.
A year, that will be as challenging and as surprising as the last, because I don’t imagine the dirt getting any lighter.
This will be a year I cannot see. I year I cannot imagine. A year I am unable to predict or understand, until I have lived it. Until I dig more ditches. Until I work, and sweat, and pray, and overcome, whatever I am meant to overcome.
This is a five-year journey.
This blog will end, but not today.
Ten Minas will end on the last December day of 2021, because as a writer I want to execute the final chapter. I want the credits to roll. I want the story to be complete. I don’t want to just suddenly disappear.
So, this is the end.
The end of proving that an amateur who has never written anything, for the first forty- five years of his life, can wake up early each morning and before he begins his other life, has the inner strength and ability to share his thoughts with the world.
The world as he sees it.
The world as he wants it to be.
Thank you for reading my thoughts, dear friends, and fellow tribe members.
Thank you, and blessings to you, on your own journey.
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.
