A long way to go

I finished "A New Earth " today. The book has had a profound effect on me. I'm much more comfortable not knowing what to do with my life.

I don't think I've ever been sure of what I wanted to be when I grew up. After finding out that fighter pilots were required to have perfect vision, I was stumped. That was 5th grade. I watched my father and teacher plan my career as an Air Force desk jockey, and I knew I would have no part of it.

On and off I dream of being an author, but I always talk myself out of it. I don't know if anyone really wants to read what I write, and, for some reason, friends don't count. Why would a complete stranger have any interest whatsoever in my stories? Then, after reading "A New Earth ", I remembered that the writer is not the focus. The story is ready to be told, and the writer is the vessel. I have to put the future of the piece out of my mind and just be present, feeling the flood of creativity and emotions that accompany it. Where the story goes once it's finished should not influence me. I need a whole lot of work there.

I have difficulty accepting the way things are, especially when it comes to where I am in comparison to where I believe I was expected to be by now. All I ever desired as a child was praise. I still look for it now, but I am never satisfied when I receive it. I'm always looking for the next thing that's gonna make me feel loved and valued. It's a common dysfunction, no matter where a person is in their life. The biggest lesson I am learning is how to find joy in everything I do. The task isn't as important as the intention behind it. I've got a long way to go to get there, but the work is its own reward.