All this talk of spring. Birds. Greening grass. And we wake with three inches of snow.
Out of bed earlier than usual to write away this weight in my brain. All wound up. Shaking from the inside out. Letting it—the big IT—get the best of me. As always, it is with me. Nagging at my gut. Creeping through my veins. But all I can do is keep moving. On the right path. Dig deep. Touch the foundation. Recognize that this is part of the big picture. The whole scheme of things. And it could always be worse.
We have this roof. Food. Air to breathe. And one another.
It’s selfish of me. Waking so soon. Wanting only to be alone with words, my thoughts. But nowadays it is all I ask for. To be able to write with at least a sense of personal success.
But what’s the sense in belly-aching about it, Stevens?
You want to write? Stop being a sissy and write? You want to be alone with your words and create for the sake of personal success? Then stop writing about what you do not have, stop sitting there pissing and moaning about it, buck up, and write for success. Personal or otherwise.
So you got up early to write. Big deal. There are people waking up in three inches of snow on the street. Without a home. A family. There are men and women and children waking earlier than they ever imagined just so they can flip hash browns, sweep floors, scrub toilets. To pay the bills. Buy medicine. Make ends meet.
You have it made. And that is what you must remember. This wanting more is fine, but it is also what ails you. It’s important to want, but it’s important to push ahead with true desire so that you can produce quality in this life. Because that’s what this world needs. Quality. Integrity. Truth. You hit on it when you write truly, when you step outside yourself and “dig deep” as you like to say, but when you get vain, talking about how selfish you are for “Waking so soon. Wanting only to be with words…” well, that’s when you need to stop. Snap out of it. And get back at the heart of this thing. The big IT.
Thank God for that voice. Creating balance with a dose of reason. I was headed to a dark place. A familiar place, but because that voice came up and slapped me in the face, I feel better. As if a dark cloud has lifted and is working away at this cold.
There is no sense in belly-aching. No reason to get down. No reason to go on. Not now.
So, enough from me. Best to you.