I've been hitting my writing hard, which is a beautiful, beautiful dream coming true. The act of writing is so energizing and liberating. I really love it and fall in love with it over and over on a regular basis. But, it's reminding me of other shit I used to love as a kid. The act of writing is compelling me to remember other dreams I had and feel like I can do, or at least try to do.
One of them was physically climbing a mountain. It wouldn't have to be Mt. Everest, though wouldn't that be a near-super-hero feat? I have other smaller dreams like knitting a sweater or doing calligraphy. The latter I have started doing again to beautify the Atrium where I will be assisting with Sunday school next year. The point is that one dream feeds another dream.
See, this also begs the question. Do we really, honestly, need money to motivate us to be productive or relevant? I don't fucking think so. No one pays me to write, but I do it, and I do it the best I can. Does anybody demand that I knit a sweater? Fuck no.
Maybe it's knit in my bones and soul to serve others too, but I think most people are genetically coded to help others and do what they love.
However, this semester has been rough, street rough. Thus, I am so blessed and overjoyed that my husband is taking my family and I out on vacation this weekend. I am taking my laptop to write, but I am also going to sleep. I need it!
I've been taking as many car naps as I used to when I was pregnant almost on a daily basis and without any control. The car is also becoming the quietest place where I can nap, between the kids and the cats. Both are equally noisy, this kinetic blur that goes all over the house.
Well, that's all I've got a 1a.m. I'm off to work on my novel, The Harvest, some more: You can read the running draft here. I need to nestle in with my characters a bit and map out more of the plot line and escalating conflicts. Maybe that will be my weekend goal.
Dream big and do it. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. #Resist