It's a good thing I don't believe in "some things are meant to be" or "I was born for this" or even "do what you love and the money will follow." If I did, I would give up on all thought of writing at all ever again. Circumstances have arranged themselves to thwart me at every turn. Chunks of time I thought could be set aside for time with trees and pens get swallowed by unexpected obligations, or more often, expected obligations that just expand to fit all available time.
What's really awful is how much of this I do to myself because of my priorities. I'm talking about the items that I don't even realize are priorities until they pop up and I drop everything else to take care of them. Sometimes not very gracefully. Sometimes, in fact, grudgingly.
Which makes me feel even worse. Not only have I lost an opportunity for a creative moment, I may not perform a higher priority task cheerfully. And then I feel that I don't deserve to visit the well (which is a moot point anyway, because the time slot is gone...but the feeling bleeds into later times, and I have unfitted myself to answer the call if the opportune moment arises).
This is where, even though it pains me to wade into the goo of Anne Lamott and Julia Cameron affirmation, I must resist the temptation to read during my spare half hour and admit that they have a point: It doesn't matter what you feel like, you emanation of the universe. Put your rear end in a chair and get to work.
And that's all I have time for.
Except I'm actually following through with the whole tree organization thing I mentioned a few posts ago, and I'm using my one evening off to go to a native plants organization meeting. My big strategy for choosing a group to join turned out to be: find one that has meetings at a time when I can actually attend.
So I would say I am achieved a small first step in my attempt to get myself out of this rut. Even if I have just added another obligation.
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