January 1st, 2020

Writing

“Are you paralyzed with fear? That’s a good sign. Fear is good. Like self-doubt, fear is an indicator. Fear tells us what we have to do. Remember one rule of thumb: the more scared we are of a work or calling, the more sure we can be that we have to do it.”
― Steven Pressfield, The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks & Win Your Inner Creative Battles

Mr Pressfield's book is easily one of the best books ever written.

Yes, it's true. 

It's designed (in my opinion) to enable you to access a higher consciousness and to force you to do your best work.

When I say 'best' I don't mean the paid variety — although it's always nice to see the $$$ (as my kids would say) — but instead the variety that lives deepest in your heart.

OK, but what about writing?

Well, you don't need to read "The War of Art" to write. As Hemmingway said: "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed."

Or better still, as Bukowski said: "...go all the way."

In my case, I've been wrestling with a memoir for 8 years. I hope that 2020 will be the year I finally finish it. Also, I need to write longer pieces; but to date I've allowed Resistance — our main foe and as described in detail in "The War of Art" — to kick my butt. 

But, then again, that's bullsh*t. If I really wanted to finish the book, I'd have done so. Instead, I've allowed other stuff to get in the way.

Sorry, I'm going slightly off the point.

Which is?

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Jackfruit

I've just made a vegan bake and included a can 🥫 of Jackfruit (not all of it) that was languishing in the cupboard.

I've this nasty feeling that the vegans (me, daughters #2 and #3) are going to struggle to eat much of it — the Jackfruit that is. 

As to the others, *gulp*, it might have to be chips and beans.

Perhaps next time I should have followed a recipe.

Ju.


two worlds

My first poem for 2020.

🙏


living betwixt the worlds
of past
and heaven-sent.

the now
seems to offer nothing more
than a cacophony
of screaming minds
empty promises
and blind alleys.

and so
we seek.
and seek
some more.

until...
we're exhausted
impaled on our seminal delusion
of what bliss is really like.

there's nothing here
you hear
but it doesn't register.

if only
we'd let go
of everything
anything
that keeps us from accepting
just this
for all
and everything
it offers.


1 Jan 2020