Sunday, January 12, 2014

A Hard Time Getting Started

I don’t know why, but I’m really having a hard time getting started.  I’ve used some of my time well, but I feel like I’ve wasted some time, too.  I want to start getting up early again so I should go to bed soon, but I need to write.  Why do I need to write? 
I need to write because I’m afraid of missing a day.  I’m afraid I won’t reach my goal.  I’m afraid that I will allow other things to creep in little by little and keep me from writing altogether. 
So I’m writing because I don’t feel like it.  I’m writing because I have absolutely nothing to say.  I’m writing because I don’t like the alternative, which is not writing.  Most of all I’m writing because I love it.  I love my Muse.  I love to see what she’s going to bring to me.  I’m writing because it feels good and it’s therapeutic.   I’m writing because I want to see what comes next, not only the printed page, but in my life.  I’m writing because there are few other things I’d rather do. 
Actually, there’s a lot I’d rather do.  I’d rather sleep.  I’d rather read comic books and eat a bowl of popcorn.  I’d rather watch a movie.  This is one of those times when I need to be self-disciplined.  Doing something I don’t want to do, but know I should, is the thing I should do. 
Yes, I’m sitting here writing and complaining about how hard it is at this moment.  Still, it’s a lot easier than other moments I’ve had, moments when I felt like I had done nothing significant or meaningful with my life, moments when I was afraid to move forward, and moments when I knew I wasn’t reaching my potential or even close to it.  I feel like I’m reaching my potential now.  I feel like I’ve been closer to living my best in the last year than I have in years.  I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile, meaningful and life changing.
The funny thing is this.  I still feel confused and disquieted for some reason.  Perhaps I’m mad at myself for wasting time. Perhaps I should have set some goals when I got home this evening.  Perhaps I should clean my place.  Perhaps I should go to bed.  I don’t know and it doesn’t matter.   What I do know is that I just need to write, because it makes me feel better.  Even if it doesn’t, I still need to write. 
I feel like I have a lot of cobwebs in my head.   It’s okay.  I still need to write.  
If this blog doesn’t make sense, and if it feels like some sort of indulgent form of free writing, that’s okay.  I still need to write. 
As I’ve said before, this is what the writing process is like sometimes.  Words just pour out and they might not make any sense, but they keep coming until my Muse says, “Write this.”
Until then I just sit here and work.  That’s the writing process.  It’s like an athlete stretching before the competition.  The only difference is that I’m not competing with anyone.  In The Strangest Secret, Earl Nightingale says, “There really isn’t any competition.  All we have to do is create.” 
So I’m creating a new piece of writing.  Is it any good?  I like it, because it comes from the heart.  Maybe I’ll be the only one.   It doesn’t matter.  The ultimate purpose of writing is clear and concise expression. 
The other purpose of writing, at least the writing I do, is to bring hope and encouragement into the world.  It’s to show that writing isn’t even the point.  The point is that we’re called to do something in this world to help make it a better place.  Writing is simply one of the ways I do that.    We are all called, however, to Get Started and to Keep Going…even if we have a hard time getting started.