I finished a small piece of writing last night; worked it over for 2-3 days; 1 page, a 5-minute talk about how nuclear energy and the cold war standoff scared the bejesus out of me as a kid.
I feel supremely satisfied this morning, like I have less to carry, less to buzz about. There’s less anxiety in my body. It’s the act of creation that does it; doing from the inside out is how we find and make soul into the world.
Have you felt this? Do you think you’re not that creative, and it’s a struggle? It’s a struggle. It doesn’t always come out easy. Babies are born in hard labor. The fruits of our own creative juices has to be born out. They don’t stay in there without a price of pain or death. Little deaths, big deaths, however they emerge or don’t emerge determines your presence in the world.
Oh satisfaction, you are won with work. You are won with courage, and support, and self-worth, and some pushing and prodding. There’s no formula for the doing. Take the first step and finish it. You’ll feel something shift the next morning.