Swimming Upstream Both Ways

I want to write every day, but there are so many other things I want to be doing too. How do we deal with this? How do we progress in our crafts when we have too many crafts or hobbies? I’m still trying to decode the secret. Somewhere in life’s encrypted rules there must be instructions for this, right?

Until we find it [and I expect a prompt message if you already have the answer], let’s look at our options. We can (1) aimlessly wander and hope we end up somewhere decent. We can (2) take aim and plot a destination and try not to get “distracted.” Or we can (3) take aim and plot a course along the way with deadlines and benchmarks leading to our desired destination.

The greater majority of us aimlessly wander around for a while hoping to get somewhere magical. I know I did. I wandered because I didn’t know what I wanted. I spent many years being tossed through the air like a tumble weed, never really getting anywhere. To this day, I only understand pieces of what I want. A home, a family, and to do the things I love. I even spent one summer soul searching what it IS that I LOVE. Imagine how ridiculous that felt; I was almost 25 years old.

In the end, I determined that music and writing were integral parts of who I am. I am not happy without both of these elements in my life. Years later, I still have people trying to get a “which one could you not live without” from me. The answer is neither. I wasn’t kidding when I said, I need them both. To live without music feels like my soul shriveling up and to never write is like losing your voice and your hope.

I use to write poetry. One day, poetry no longer filled the need inside me and I began writing lyrics. None of those lyrics have been put to music, and I sometimes wonder if they’ll be like my poetry—lost in the past. But the past paved our path to where we are now. Those bricks laid in poetry and unsung lyrics mark the direction for my future.

Lately, I hear the little girl inside me rising up and saying, “Write the worlds in your head. I’m tired of this place. I want to go somewhere new. You should come with me.” And I just can’t tell her, “no.”

Thankfully, with age comes some degree of wisdom. I’ll not be tossed about on a ship I cannot steer. I will commandeer this vessel and mark our course. My little one deserves new worlds and unknown adventures and stories never told. I’ll give them to her and to all who wish it. The child within us sees the vast map of stars pinned down to the tabletop, while the rest of us see a schedule and work for the coming year. The journey will be as tedious or as wondrous as we make it. What shores will you find yourself on this New Year?