“The foods I’ve eaten, and the beds I’ve slept in”… it was a working title of a book my father never wrote. It was one in a moderate sized list of things he never got around to doing, or goals that remained in the realm of dreams. But, if he were here today, now… he probably wouldn’t list it under regrets. He wasn’t the type to carry them, barring maybe one or two from his youth that he probably mentioned in passing once or twice, in the time I was a part of his life. But even then, the word ‘regret’ was never used.
[Contentment]
Sometimes I feel like I’m on the brink of something big, forever questioning whether or not I’m prepared for it, whilst other times I feel like I’m paddling upriver. I’m doing some real work but if I look at the shore, I’m actually going nowhere. I'm aware that in time I'll look back on this piece or period, and what concerns me…
Well, I think what will concern me then, is what concerns me now.
It’s strange when you find yourself on a road you kind of never chose. I know there’s always a choice, but writing was never in the running in terms of my career choices. I’ve never met anyone who said that when they were young they always dreamed of becoming a writer. Now that I am one, I understand why. There’s a saying, I don’t know by whom but it says ‘people don’t choose to be a writer, Writing chooses people’. I believe there is some truth to that. I think that many folks seem to have an idea where they want to go and affix their sights on that and move toward it. For me that never happened with Writing. It’s like God took me along the road, showing me various inviting avenues, that I would ultimately not take… and one day he brought me to this point {a ballpoint, hehe} where, in hindsight, many things began to make sense. It’s a diversion I never thought of. It elicits many mixed feelings, because its like I was going one way (a way that looked right and seemed to fit, but just didn’t feel 100%), and God tapped me on the shoulder and said, “No, you’re going this way”. So I feel honoured to have been “selected” for this road, but the struggles I face brings me to realize why it must and can only be a chosen few to travel it, who have the stomach for it, otherwise anyone would do it.

And so it goes. We forge on, in solitary self doubt, and often darkness, to find a glimmer of light…
And it’s not easy, especially when dealing with that ever present companion I just referred to, called doubt. And he’s not alone either. Not only is there the personal doubt, but the often silent doubt (hand-in-hand with waning confidence) of your fiercest fans and loved ones - your virtuous "true believers", if you're fortunate enough to have some.
You might say you’re mining (in a way), but perhaps they think you’re sailing, and that your boat is sinking, and there’s no wind to guide your sails.
You might think a great many things, that so what if you’re on an allegorical boat, and that you’re fanning the flames of your own budding career, using what looks suspiciously like wood from your own, very same, sinking boat…
- what if someone sees those flames?
What if someone wades out to ‘rescue’ you…
Because maybe they believe, as you always have,
that you have a story worth telling.
Maybe your chunk of metal isn’t meant for a necklace or ring… maybe it’s meant for a gun barrel, or silverware or a key
To unlock other worlds... and if that sounds like a cliche, then you know the kind of plywood we're dealing with to keep the boat afloat.
We scratch, mine, sail, sink and/or swim by our hopes... and NOT our fears.
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