From the End Comes a Beginning

I think sometimes the end of one's rope can signal a glorious beginning! I'm not talking about tying a knot and hanging on, that mantra found on posters with cute kittens and the like. Not at all. If I got to the end of myself and I simply tied a knot and hung on, then I'd be stuck with me, my stagnation and all that I had to offer at the point of the knot. So to me, getting to the end of one's proverbial rope should, rather, be a letting go and a free-fall into God's arms.

I'm there today, and I like it. I did NOT like it when I got up this morning. But here in my den, the gathering gloom of an overcast late afternoon seeping through the windows, I like it. My hot tea in hand, my dog by my side, my resolve is cast again. Its a fabulous resolve. I am a writer and I don't get paid much, often nothing, for the words, thoughts, observations and creativity that pour out of me. Sometimes I cast about for a hook to hang these gifts upon and end up pushing them under the bed instead. That's rather stupid. The end result is the "bed" of my desires becomes bowed in the middle and I can't rest on it anymore. The desires don't rest, either. They fester.

I'm so glad my uncle posted something to my FB that indicated, in so many words, that being published does not make one a writer. Writing does. Here I am, writing. Being me. No one can stop that. 

Back to the knot, or lack thereof, as is the case here. I worry, fret, enjoy a bath of inadequacy, and then I plunge. If you've ever tried to work as a writer then you have been rejected. I have very little stomach for that, and yet, here I go again, planning a full week of casting my net, of making inquiries, of working on my new website about life in the Smokies, of looking into contests and working on a novel and some poetry. Here I go. Look out week!I'm going to chew you up and spit you out in tiny pieces of productivity!