I always loved the idea of being a writer. I even remember writing a book way back in my teenage years that got about as far as two or three chapters. I’m not going to go into details about the content as I might actually try to write that book in its completion at some point. However, somewhere along the line, I stopped. I remember, in my 20’s, thinking that it would be fun to pick it up again. But, I didn’t.
Well, there were probably two reasons. The first one was easy to come up with. It is much easier to talk about doing something than it is to actually do it. That’s why New Year’s Resolutions are typically failures. We want to improve. We truly desire change and new things. But….. it’s easier to just stay on course with what we have already achieved.
The other thing that kept me from writing was this nagging fear that I would not be good enough. What if I failed? What if I wrote something that absolutely no one wanted to read? This seems to be a common deterrent to new projects. We all tend to place less value on our abilities than what is actually there.
I could argue that rest and silence are necessary, and it is, but what if it’s just an excuse? What if it’s fear masquerading in replenishment’s clothing? A big part of me, for years now—since 2011, look, I’ve got the proof—has struggled with not wanting. Not knowing what I want, not knowing what my dreams are anymore. But what if that “not knowing,” that murky story I’ve been telling myself is just a ruse? What if what I really want seems so impossible that I wouldn’t dream of calling it my own desire? Instead of risking wanting something, I shut it down and fail in advance, not even allowing myself to dream?
The last time I played the game: What if the best of all possible worlds were possible? (2004 version) What would I want then? The first time I played, I won. And I mean, I really won. Every single thing I’d hoped would happen in 2004 did. I wrote it all down, and then, it happened! And looking back at that power of manifestation maybe has made me believe that it doesn’t happen twice. So I don’t even dare try. Who wants to fall short of it all?
That’s the thing though. You have to expect to fail in advance. You have to KNOW you’ll fail, that you won’t get it all at first, that you’ll have to try many different attempts until you get at it. It’s almost like wanting to convert to Judaism. The three-knock rule. You’ll be turned away just to test your conviction. That’s what happens with wants. You have to prove you’re willing and committed. That you’ll spend however long it takes to get after it, and you’ll bask in the getting of it because you know it’s the trying that empowers and enriches you.
If the best of all possible worlds were possible, I wouldn’t be afraid to dream of that world. It might be too much to acknowledge out here in the open. Another should. I should take to the offline paper journal of my life and wreck it. Wreck it with everything I hope and want, break it of fears, bend its pages in hopes and dares. Skip the safe perfection of attainable and tear right into the heart of everything I burn for, face up to everything I can create.
Life is Strange. Live it Well.