Spirit

I have a confession.  I can be lazy.  Unambitious.  I set deadlines for myself, then I let them pass.  Guilt-free sometimes.  Most times not, I do know what I am doing isn't productive so I half-smile through my distraction.  I put off writing a lot because I enjoy it, but I want to be "good" at it.  Sometimes when you have that issue the easiest thing is to just not do it.

But, of course, that is the wrong way to handle it.  So sometimes I do plant my ass down and force myself to let spill whatever may come.  It's those times I look at the clock and see it reads 4 a.m., and I am caught wondering why do I put this writing thing off so much.  As soon as I start I can't always stop.  It just takes that first, forced step.

All this aside, this is a reflection on what it feels to write with this reckless abandon I will suddenly find myself in:

I don't always believe I am always the one who speaks through these words I loosely thread together in attempts to convey some sort of meaning.  No, I feel at times this pen scratches away at the paper with an awareness all its own, I am merely its vehicle, its harbinger for whatever news it brings.  This is not a common occurrence, but when it comes to me worry washes away and I am left with a clean desire to just say what it is I want to say.

It saddens me that I don't always feel this energy, this spirit.  The worry returns.  Quite often.  If I feel I can't say the right things in the right way I want them to be I sometimes feel it is better to not even try.  The spirit abandons me.  She is a busy spirit, I understand.  And there is no growth without struggle.  The spirit leaves me at times so I find my own way.  There is no success without the failure, bad days are just as important as the good ones.

So, I would rather the spirit does not grace me at all times, there are times I need to leave myself vulnerable to those negative and defeating thoughts so I can struggle to find meaning, purpose, and the drive to seek my vision by conquering these obstacles.  I would rather it be that way.  I would rather scratch and scrape my way through the jungle of struggle.  Because the honey is sweetest if you find it on a path you forge on your own.

However, a great comfort in life is for someone to hold you close and say, "It will be alright, this too shall pass"

So Spirit come back to me soon.  We have much to discuss and much to say.  I want to learn what it is to hear with not just my ears but with my heart and my pen....