What do you really want to do with your life? Why aren’t you doing it?
These are questions I have been asked, and asked myself, over and over again, from the years I worked in corporate and small business to the hours it took to leave everything behind in search of living a dream. For now, writing is what I want to do, and it is exactly what I am doing.
Usually by this time of year I am ready for the warmer winds to blow, for the inspiration of Spring to strike, for the rains to fall and the buds to burst, but that is still a few months away. It is still winter. At night I wake every few hours to restock the wood stove and wait for the morning sun to appear through the windows and warm what can be an otherwise cold floor.
It’s been a rather comfortable day here on the ranch, not too much wind at my elevation as I sit here beside a pond working on this post. Above, the clouds are a bit wispy, telling me something of what the wind is like up there. I can’t help but wonder if there isn’t a metaphor to success somewhere in these last two sentences.
Perhaps what is needed is to find a sense of balance somewhere between the high winds above and the stillness on the ground, a place where words continually flow, and I can dip into silence or raging noise.
I have failed to write as much when the winds are still, when I’m locked away inside a corner cabin office, staring at a blank page at a scheduled time. But outside, when wind is just right, when things aren’t quite planned, when the sun shines down and it isn’t too hot or too cold, my creativity is nourished; ideas flow and sometimes they flood.
I don’t know that it matters what career path one takes or new trail one blazes. Maybe it doesn’t even matter whether one chooses to know a lot about a little or a little about a lot, but I think it is important to choose to do something other than routine as often as possible.
Always choose to be the artist first, not the clone.