WOW!
Those who follow me on Facebook know that I recently traveled to California for a two-day writing workshop. The workshop creator is a genius, coming up with a clever name that I just couldn't resist. Are you ready?
Isn't that great?
Sometimes things are meant to be. The opportunity to fly cross-country to attend the workshop fell into my lap. It stood there staring at me, all doors open, not one roadblock in sight. We even had Sky Miles to pay for my flight. News about the workshop appeared just hours after I had gotten really honest with myself. I was on the phone with my mom one morning, and I told her, "I need to do this (write). I want to do this. But I'm scared. I'm afraid of opening the box. I'm afraid of getting lost in my thoughts." What will happen if I finally did what my soul has been calling me to do all along?
And with that honesty, I got my answer. Write the damn book.
At the workshop, I experienced one of those rare moments when everything turns out exactly as I had hoped it would. There was such a profound connection between this group of twelve strangers; we each had creative breakthroughs and accomplished some amazing work during our time together.
I don't know how long it will take, or exactly where this journey will lead, but you have my commitment that I'm am now, once and for all-- you guessed it, writing the damn book.
There. I've said it out loud.
I hope this inspires you in some way to begin the thing you've been putting off. If your soul is speaking to you-- don't stress, don't over analyze, don't worry about how it's going to work out. Just begin. I leave you with this poem by Mary Oliver our instructor shared with the class:
The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice
--though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do
--determined to save
the only life you could save.
~ Mary Oliver ~ (Dream Work)
