Fahrenheit 457

I had intended to take a few days off after my last scintillating post.

That was 457 days ago.

I was not captured by Fae Folk, nor was I waylaid watching a lazy game of chess, played by two sleepy giants on a hill side, while the decades fell away around us. I wasn’t even that far from my computer. I just…. I just had no words to share.

In my absence, new life has come to Planet Earth. Great hopes have become grave concerns, and the impossible, it seems, became reality. Yet I still had nothing of benefit to say.

A change of perspective, and a new home, followed by a new sense of purpose, have all provided me with positive developments. I am richer for the challenges and opportunities they all bring. I am, at the very least, where and with whom I want to be: my family.

So why now?

I had wanted to try to write a novel for some time, so back in the fall I took a course, and roughed out an outline. To be honest, it is a silly story, but it is, I think, uniquely me. But it stalled. I left it, not sure of where to go next.

So here I am again. For no other reason TODAY than because I felt the need to, I am here writing something. Anything. To get the ball rolling, and maybe keep it going.

There is so much to distract and divide us on the airwaves, in our periphery, on our minds, each and every day, that carving out a few minutes for quiet reflection seems somewhat impossible. The world seems bent on reminding us in a multitude of ways why everything and everyone sucks. It’s shameful and exhausting. And I need to focus on better things.

So for better or for worse, here I go again. I can only hope this flicker becomes a flame. That I can stand the heat and stay, sweating and heaving in this kitchen of my own design. That I have what it takes to keep the home fires burning. Even now, the glowing embers of my ambition whisper with the force of a thousand voices, telling me to keep writing; keep going. To keep shaping and forging the sacred and the wounded words that float in and out of my heart and mind, into the sharpened philosophy of my so called life.

If I don’t, then life will carry on. The world will turn. And only I will be left holding this smoldering ball.

Game On.

One comment on “Fahrenheit 457

  1. catmason2014 says:

    Keep writing! I love it!

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