It’s so late! I’m usually up earlier so I can get a good hour in with my writing. But it was worth it this time – a night in with the girls and a good movie and good food.
Time. It’s becoming so important to me! There never seems to be enough of it – not at work, not in my day, not in my writing, not for my dogs, my friends, my family, my garden. And then I sleep. And there is never enough time for that either.
You, my darling Reader, have followed me through a journey that began in a time of loss – loss of my hair, loss of my direction, loss of faith. It has taken us through new territory and into new appreciation for old territories, into the birth of new dreams and the discarding of old desires. Yes, You have shadowed the new pep in my step, new freedom, new friendships, new learning experiences and adventures.
Do You know the life change our relationship has wrought? I wake up an hour earlier every day to spend time chasing my thoughts with my pen. This hour is the most exciting most fulfilling allotment of time in my day. I go to work and lead my team to answer the demands of our job and the needs of our clients. I break sometimes for a ten minute salad, a quick response on twitter or Facebook via blackberry, and on days of luxury an hour of fresh air. My personal trainer bullies the fat cells off my body for a half hour some days at two o’clock and I attempt to have a life after work. Writing class, band practice, community service – but it all begins in that one hour in the morning where I pray and then I write.
But there is more. There is that long-suffering, growing dream that first bubbled up as I learned my alphabet and read my first golden book. It was ignored through the quest for good grades through high school. It was forced into dormancy through college and law school. It was set aside for career growth and career change and financial goals. But when I got to the end of each of these challenges it was there waiting. The book that is begging to be written.
It is growing. Man oh man it is growing. Seeded by this morning hour with You and fertilized by the night-time writing class, homework and new literary friendships. It is a rain cloud that promises a Tropical Storm whenever the first drop falls.
And then there is no time.
I am coming up to my hundredth post in less than two weeks. This is the deadline I have set myself to solve this time puzzle. What will have to give? What is going to be Chopped food-network style? What will I be willing to sacrifice for the pursuit of my dream?
An idealist will say it should be worth every cost. The family of Steve Jobs and others like him might very well disagree. I have less than fourteen days to come up with my answer. And I invite you to contribute.