“Your work is to discover your work and then, with all your heart, to give yourself to it.” (Victor Frankl)
I am here on the digital screen once again, the flashing cursor prompting me to write. I am pleased to be here with my fingers tapping quickly on the keyboard as I challenge myself to write, write, write.
I do have one eye on the timer that I’ve set beside me but I’m trying not to be too conscious of the seconds ticking away. This, for me, is just another writing exercise–a somewhat playful one as I am dedicated to hitting the “Publish” button when the alarm goes (something I have never done before except in my journal).
Today has been a day of reclaiming. I have been working up to this day for a while but now I’ve done it. I’ve reclaimed my desk at home and I’ve settled in to write for what I feel now could be the second half of my life. As I look fondly at the bright blue and red Canadian Oxford Dictionary and Strunk & White’s Elements of Style to my right as well as the carefully chosen family pictures, quotations, and mementos that surround me, I realize that this is where I belong. This, for better or worse, is my life’s work.
I spent much of yesterday cleaning and moving the furniture in my studio apartment to create a warmer, cozier writing nook with a wider view of the city and a much more dedicated feel. It’s clean, bright, spacious but purposeful. I am happy to be here. Although I have never stopped reading, writing, teaching, and learning, I have allowed myself to become distracted too often by the heart-troubling and brain-numbing demands of daily life.
Although I am sure to spend time in all the neighbouring coffee shops, my pen moving joyously across the pages of my notebook, I am ready and willing to be more productive at home. It has taken awhile. I have had to move through all kinds of fear. Fear of success. Fear of failure. Fear of devoting myself to a life’s work that may not meet my needs.
There is, however, great solace in the words of Victor Frankl above and, the following words from Don Miguel Ruiz, “Your word is the power that you have to create: it is a gift that comes directly from God.” As much as I have always known this, it takes tenacity and courage to follow one’s own path, the less-travelled route that can be so scenic yet scary.
Although very much alone here in my writing studio–the distraction-free space I’ve re-created to dedicate myself even more fully to my work–I must trust that I’m not really alone; my renewed dedication to my work will bring me closer to myself and others in ways too heady and heartfelt to describe.
As the timer winds down my allotted time, my fingers are slowing down to impress these final words on the digital screen:
I wish you all love and laughs in your life’s work and play. . .