Inspiration struck me at a few months sober.  I was going to write a book.  It seemed that I now had a calling.  The jagged journey, and not one as neat as I had planned.  A journey, still in its infancy, that has taught me already.

“I am going to work for this.” became the creed.

I put the work in.  I can become isolationist and rigid with my writing routing.  THE Routine.   It can drink all the joy out of a day.  I confess to this shortcoming in my Destructive Force that Brings Artists Down post.  It has brought unnecessary hardship to my relationships at times.

I believe there is time for sacrifice, even to outright neglect other areas of my life at times.  The journey needs to be jagged. This is just what I believe.

But to solely march militaristic would deny one crucial, vital element of what a calling is…

“…of myself I am nothing.” 

Of my own effort, what can I accomplish?  Well…apparently, a lot.  But probably not enough.  I need to have faith that my calling has chosen me and not the other way around.  To once again quote Bagger Vance,

“There’s a perfect shot out there tryin’ to find each and every one of us… All we got to do is get ourselves out of its way, to let it choose us… Can’t see that flag as some dragon you got to slay… You got to look with soft eyes…”

I have  to live life.  I have to act like I have a calling.  I have to work above all else.  But I have to nurture my connections to man and world, to relationships and letting go.  It takes faith to write.  Some of you may need faith to start, and some of us need faith to take a break.  Afraid all of our progress will die with a vacation.

“You’ll fail if you don’t chase me every day.” The Rigidity screams.

There needs to be help accepted, even if you are by yourself.  To be called upon…

The World Pouring into You

Without feeding the senses, without fresh input from nature, people, and experience, there may be only stale output.  I’ve found help coming in…

  • Inspired by this excellent post from, I have begun to sit out in nature for at least 10 minutes daily.  Watching the catfish scare the hell out of the minnows, it reminds me that the world is gigantic.  That there’s life teeming under every rock.
  •    I normally lock myself in a room to write. Brow furled, tense as hell.  I believe there is absolutely a time for this.  However, I sit and write this post on a couch with my girlfriend.  A child we are watching is asking to go to the lake outside of the apartment building…every 10 minutes, and we take him.  We watch the squirrels and he puts his hand in the cold water again and again.  He climbs a tree.  And that’s just fine.  I take a break from writing, and come back to it when the pandemonium has died down.

I’m relaxed, and inspiration for a new post has occurred to me.  I’m living my life.  Right here in this moment.  I’m a writer by calling, but more than that I’m a being on Earth.  I’m not sure what a human being is, but I’m willing to bet it’s something way more than we are led to believe.

So, today, go out and taste life.  Do just one thing.  Relax into a conversation with someone, go on a walk and see what you come across, find a secluded spot in a park, or fill in a coloring book.  Or read a book. Make a habit of doing this daily and you will be surprised by what it turns into!

*Header art is “Flood Brings Fall”  by D.E. Ingram, Boulder artist.  You can view his portfolio at

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