Hey Folks! My latest blog is long over due, but as I’m sure you all know… life happens :). Between the Holidays, events, travel, family drama and my many questions and quests for the inner workings of my soul, I have gotten out of my normal routine and have lost my balance… or have I? Perhaps I am right on course :).
When I don’t take the time to connect with myself and my soul I feel lost. When I get lost in my soul and the many questions of life… sometimes I forget to get back to the basics of life… and all the really *important* “to do’s”.. the steps to ACHIEVING happiness. What do I do that makes me happy? What makes me feel full?
There are many things that make me happy… love, children, loved ones, sunshine, music, clouds, trees, rain…. singing, creativity, writing… long walks in nature… It’s never just one thing.
When we get so caught up in the “doing” of so many little things with so many comfortable and easy little pleasures and successes, it’s all too simple to get out of our practice of attending to the “doing” for our bigger purpose… following our souls calling. And then we suddenly feel something deep is missing… who do we blame?
Often we want to point to something outside ourselves…. “They” or “It” did not deliver … whatever it was that we were hoping would “do the trick” or “Make us happy” often leaves us feeling empty.
What does my soul call for? Many, many things…. I could create a whole other universe in the blink of an eye with such a question but, it is best if I can focus on only one thing at a time, make up my mind -and of course, if I stay in THIS universe … it’s up to me :). Only “I” can answer my souls calling.
Yes, it is absolutely true that many things “outside” myself contribute to my life greatly… and I have brought them to me with only a thought… My choices and thoughts.
… but it’s the part of me that needs to take action on my own souls calling that I sometime hold at bay… or ignore completely…. until I no longer can.
I was getting to the end of Stephen Kings book “On Writing” when I reached the chapter describing his struggles while writing this book -and by struggles, I mean being crushed and mangled by a van while taking his afternoon walk… we very nearly did not get the rest of this book.
Here are some excerpts from “On writing”:
“I didn’t WANT to go back to work. I was in a lot of pain, unable to bend my right knee and restricted to a walker. I couldn’t imagine sitting behind a desk for long, even in my wheel chair. Because of my cataclysmically smashed hip, sitting was torture after forty minutes or so, impossible after an hour and a quarter. Added to this was the book it’s self, which seemed more daunting than ever -how was I supposed to write about dialogue, character and getting an agent when the most pressing thing in my world was how long until the next dose of Percocet?
Yet at the same time I felt I’d reached one of those cross roads moments when you’re all out of choices. And I had been in terrible situations before which the writing had helped me get over -had helped me forget myself for at least a little while. Perhaps it would help me again. It seemed ridiculous to think it might be so, given the level of my pain and physical incapacitation, but there was that voice in the back of my mind, both patient and implacable, telling me that, in the words of the Chambers Brothers, Time Has Come Today. It is possible to disobey that voice, but very difficult to disbelieve it.
… That first writing session lasted an hour and forty minutes, by far the longest period I’d spent sitting upright since being struck by Smiths van. When it was over, I was dripping with sweat and almost too exhausted to sit up straight in my wheelchair. The pain in my hip was just short of apocalyptic. And the first five hundred words were uniquely terrifying -it was as if I’d never written anything before them in my life. All my old tricks seemed to have deserted me. I stepped from one word to the next like a very old man finding his way across a stream on a zigzag line of wet stones. There was no inspiration that first afternoon, only a kind of stubborn determination and the hope that things would get better if I kept at it.
…There was no miraculous breakthrough that afternoon, unless it was the ordinary miracle that comes with any attempt to create something. All I know is that the words started coming a little faster after a while, then a little faster still. My hip still hurt, my back still hurt, my leg, too, but those hurts began to seem a little farther away. I started to get on top of them. There was no sense of exhilaration -not that day- but there was a sense of accomplishment that was almost good. I’d gotten going, there was that much. The scariest moment is always just before you start.
After that things can only get better.
… On some days that writing is a pretty grim slog. On others -more and more of them as my leg begins to heal and my mind reaccustoms itself to it’s old routine- I feel that buzz of happiness, that sense of having found the right words and put them in a line. It’s like lifting off in an airplane: your on the ground, on the ground, on the ground… and then you’re up, riding on a magical cushion of air and prince of all you survey. That makes me happy because that is what I was made to do. I still don’t have much strength – I can do a little less than half of what I used to be able to do in a day- but I’ve had enough to get be to the end of this book, and for that I am grateful. Writing did not save my life -Dr David Brown skill and my wife’s loving care did that- but it has continued to do what it always has done: It makes my life a brighter and more pleasant place.
Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well. It’s about getting up, getting well, and getting over. Getting happy, okay? Getting Happy.
Some of this book -perhaps too much- has been about how I learned to do it. Much of it has been about how you can do it better. The rest of it -and perhaps the best of it- is a permission slip: you can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, YOU WILL. Writing is magic, as much the water of life as any other creative art. The water is free. So drink.
Drink and be filled up.”
I Thank you deeply, Stephen King, for putting your struggles on paper… though I have not been in a life threatening accident that has challenged my daily existence, your words remind me that though it is not always fast, easy and riding high, If your soul calls to write, or anything else for that matter, always answer the call … no matter how hard it may be at first… it is your SOUL calling. You SOUL always has your happiness at heart.
So Here’s to listening to your soul… doing what you yearn to do… and taking full responsibility for your joy, happiness and full realization of your dreams! Happy holidays everyone! I may take another long break from blogging but know that I am so grateful for you and I wish you all the greatest existence you can imagine! -And a Happy New year!!!
Here is another short excerpt from Flashpoint -Enjoy!:
“Grayson Maddock rarely took the time to cross town from the business district to Golden Gate Park, but today was different. Being a CEO of multiple companies he had thrived using his razor sharp intuition that had always led him to the optimal route to success, even if all other colleagues had doubted his choices. But today he felt an undeniable and unavoidable urge to get out of his office, to get out of the district … to break free of all he once held so close.
Why was he feeling like this? he thought, I used to love the thrill of business conquest and overcoming odds that were stacked against me… now I feel like it’s a heavy coat I desperately want to throw off.
Shaking his head at his own absurdity he nonetheless exited the bus stopping along Golden Gate Park. Though he always commuted to town in a chauffeured company car, he wasn’t so pretentious that he wouldn’t resort to public transportation. For some reason, today he felt such a need to break free from the world and life style he’d grown so accustomed to, he welcomed the meandering pace, grimy bus seats and the parade of unusual characters.
Walking through the park his mind rambled repeatedly over the huge merger he had just secured, the further incredible wealth it would bring him and his partners, and why the hell he didn’t give a damn. This sort of conquest used to give him such a thrill, especially when no one thought he could do it. But now he just didn’t care. It was like he had no idea who he was anymore. He was sure the rest of the company board was searching for his whereabouts so they could congratulate him and bask in the glory of their even brighter futures thanks to his cunning skill… he wanted no part of it.
For hours Grayson wandered the park searching the happy faces he passed as if they could give him some clue as to what was wrong with him. He was a good man, for being in his late forties he had done extremely well with his companies, he was well liked by all his peers, and although he had never been married, he was generally a very happy guy.
… but suddenly, somehow, he felt something was gravely missing. He noted he must have been the last one to realize it because friends, business associates and even new acquaintances noticed he seemed to be searching faces whenever he was in a public place.
“Who are you looking for?” countless people had asked over the years.
“No one,” Grayson always replied “just looking.”
Grayson had wandered into a charming section of the park with a small pond, a grassy area and a shaded bench he found perfectly alluring for a rest. Perhaps if he stared long enough, the gracefully gliding geese in the pond would divulge the inner working of his soul. He chuckled at himself and sat comfortably on the bench and watched the joggers, grass nappers, families and tourists that moved and shifted around him.”