It feels good to be sitting here again. I have missed it.
My fingers still rest easily into the grooves of the keys before thought spurs them to dance and the words begin to line up. My shoulders still slump a bit as sentences are built. My eyes still hop from a pen to a stone to a picture as my brain contemplates tone and construction and economy. My dog’s breathing still provides the room a rhythm as she still sleeps behind me. And my heart is still lifted by the simple act of writing.
Man, do I love this. I just haven’t been able to do it much lately.
It’s not as though I have suddenly become incapable of adequately stringing words together (though there is some debate as to whether I have ever been capable and adequacy is probably not the benchmark I should be shooting for), life has just been full lately, as it becomes for all of us. I am happy to say it has been full of joy – beginnings and continuations and celebrations, family and friends and love. I have nothing to complain about, but when your plate fills up you have to leave some things untouched in the buffet line. This go round it happened to be writing for a while.
And that is all right. It is all right because each moment in our lives is a choice and I have been choosing to use my energy in other places and in other ways that fed my soul full. But now it is time to return to this.
The interesting thing is that as I was organically rediscovering putting my pen to paper and my fingers to keys the universe was passing along signs that it was time to return, that despite being satiated elsewhere I need to find time to be here, too. Among the many messages I was getting was one friend and fellow blogger with whom I started this journey challenging himself to write one post a month. He is not only doing it, I believe he has written some of his best pieces. Did I mention he has a new full time job and two year old twins? Another friend let me read some screen plays he has written recently that had me so thoroughly rapt that I forgot to make any notes about my thoughts as he had asked. Now I get to read them again and he should quit his day job.
Such inspiration and reminders of the path I want to be on are everywhere. While life has been full and I have felt full as a result, the writing process has still been with me. As I watched my daughters dance, a narrative grew in my head. As I tried and failed and tried again to be the father I know I can be, the reflections grew into paragraphs yet to be written. As I listened to the cashier’s sunny response and stared into her tired eyes that belied her attempts at cheerfulness and presence, a character in a story yet to be told was born.
Writing is a part of me and without allowing it – willing it – to be a part of my life it will be as if a call will be going unanswered.
I choose to answer. I choose to write.
I need to find room for this little blog to grow and I also need to see beyond it. Notebooks filled with ideas and stories and characters need to be reopened. Lessons and thoughts need to be fleshed out. Time and energy need to be devoted to this path that will not be ignored. As Thoughtful Pop turns one year old tomorrow I will be rededicating myself to the written word.
In the words of a band that has been an inspiration for a great friend who is an inspiration to me, if my life becomes too full to follow this path, this dream, then maybe it’s time to quit sleep, not writing.
Thanks to all of the readers who have followed the Pop thus far. I am honored and humbled that you have shared your time and your thoughts with me.