The last time I wrote anything remotely close to a reflection piece or anything to be quite honest was in January. My life has been filled with an abundance of to do lists that I told myself I had to sift through first before I could follow my passion.
Doesn’t “life” somehow always come in the way of us living our ideal lives? Somehow as much as our intentions are good we always seem to be swept by the tide of things. Before, you know it you are in the middle of the ocean of stuff and you really do not know how you lost yourself. Work comes along, then other relationships, then there is never enough hours in the day to just keep still and do nothing.
Writing had just stopped been important to me. As a result it was constantly at the bottom of my to do list. I lied to myself that I have reached a plateau phase where I have nothing to reflect on. I have no experiences to share. I have no wise words to tell my audience of 10. I made myself believe that life happened and it is ok. I would tell myself if and when something amazing and note worthy will come along I will write about it.
I convinced myself that I am in the eye of the storm. I had not built enough perspective to really encapsulate what was going in my life. As “life” was happening I would evolve everyday. The way I interact with people, my core and value systems were constantly been renovated. I found myself wanting to be more private. Feeling the push of unplugging from the system very exciting. I just could not bare the constant effort needed to engage. It was just not worth it to me.
Why am I writing now then? My friend actually nudge me. A simple statement “rediscover why you started” was enough to pull me out of my funk. Somehow in the abyss of my subconscious. Somewhere where my voices in my head do not bother to venture I had planted a seed that I was doing this for the audience. As much as an audience is amazing to have and it is fantastic when you relate to my words it was not the reason why I stared. I had forgotten that. I had started focusing on perfection and social acceptability of my words to get in the way. I had let been a minority in my school of thought be a hindrance. Somehow I managed to convince myself that what I had to say was not important. That is why I let “life” happen.