September 21, 2014

Am I a Hypocrite?

I pose this question to myself, as I sit in my house on a sunny Sunday, still in my pyjamas, working a little - sitting in the sun a bit, reading Facebook messages a LOT as well as Twitter. Social media takes up too much of my time, I think.  But it's SUNDAY! True, true, it is Sunday. And yet, I have deadlines to meet, things to do, responsibilities!

I wonder - what is it that I really want to do right now? I have just signed up to a group called "10 minute writers," and feel a bit hypocritical because I haven't written anything in what seems like ever so long, apart from the writeup of my dreams in my journal. And tomorrow is BlogMonday or something like that... So, am I now writing so I'll have something to show? Or because I want to write? Why do I want to write anyway? Is it to become famous? Because it's a childhood dream I have that I still haven't let go? Could it be that some people might enjoy what I write, or even connect with it? Do I feel the muse or a calling?

Where loneliness appeared, was felt, and got away...
Obviously, there are more questions than answers, but what I can say is this: Last night I was home alone, in a quiet, tidy house, having made a good dinner for myself and having entertained myself with a good book and later with a fun TV series. And the muse came up and took hold of me. I had it - I had a beautiful poetic first sentence of something good. It was about Loneliness... I felt empty and bereft. My kids had gone to their Dad's house for the week, and my better half was away for a couple of days. I realized that I was touching some raw emotion, feeling it, like sinking bare feet into oozy soft mud on a warm day. And at that time, late last night,  I had the words to describe this feeling - but what did I do with those words? I let them linger in the air around me, like the faint whiff of perfume of the woman passing me on her bike last week, where I wanted to enjoy the scent just a few moments longer, but could not. I let the words fall, smash, disintegrate... and now they are gone. We will never know what loneliness really felt like to me last night. I lost the opportunity to put them down on paper, or on computer, or anywhere. They are gone.

And this is why I feel like a hypocrite. Because I spend so much time on Social Media - or reading books that friends and various amazing authors have written, admiring their craft, and yet, when the muse hits me, what do I do ? I let it go, pass me by.

I am the one who works as a coach, telling my clients to set their goals and encouraging them to set them higher and more specific and to write them down. But where are my goals? "I wanna write a book someday," is not exactly a SMART goal, now, is it?  How will I ever get there if I don't start writing now, today, everyday, at least for those 10 minutes or especially when the moment of creativity hits me and tickles and demands like "I dream of Genie" to be let out of the bottle!

Yes, it's the weekend. Time to rest and recuperate from the stresses of a busy week. Or is it? Or is life too short to be spent lazing around in pyjamas watching TV and reading other people's ideas and thoughts on Facebook? Is the weekend the time to get up, get dressed, get out there and create and walk in the forest and post a new blog and work on the juicy stuff that makes the day to day life so much more meaningful?

I think I have my answer. And I've written now for at least 10 minutes. So, I am happy. I even plan to get showered and maybe, just maybe, take myself out for a walk on this almost autumn, but still sunny day. 

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