Outside my window this morning is a pure sheet of white. And no, I’m not talking about snow, it’s fog. Something we don’t get that often inland like we used to do on the coast. Still I got up this morning with “no way to hold my head that it didn’t hurt”, as Kris Kristofferson so eloquently put it. So I jumped into the mini-shower and soaked my head seeing if I could open my sinuses. It seems to have worked although my eyes are still giving me a little trouble focusing.
Last night I was harassed by some annoying dreams dealing with my dad and some dispute over a grave plot. (Don’t ask). Anyway unlike the fog hanging over the area, I’m not so much worried about any clear vision ahead what now. Instead I’m forced to the task at hand which is to practice my craft and maybe tell a little story. Using a few new techniques to draw better stories out of myself. In a way I feel like I’m failing myself by not replying on my own strength to pull whatever it is I need to get out.
A tiny voice keeps nagging at me to keep my voice genuine, by not replying on anyone else’s critique. And while I understand the fear of losing one’s own voice. I do see the benefit of allowing outside influences to broaden our understanding. So within this conundrum, I work to strike a balance between what is flowing from my heart and my head. But nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Especially when trying to make sense out of the jumbled web of thoughts inside our heads. But just as the fog slowly clears from outside the window. I now see shapes and clearer focus on the task at hand. To improve my own little corner of the world one story at a time.
Last night I was harassed by some annoying dreams dealing with my dad and some dispute over a grave plot. (Don’t ask). Anyway unlike the fog hanging over the area, I’m not so much worried about any clear vision ahead what now. Instead I’m forced to the task at hand which is to practice my craft and maybe tell a little story. Using a few new techniques to draw better stories out of myself. In a way I feel like I’m failing myself by not replying on my own strength to pull whatever it is I need to get out.
A tiny voice keeps nagging at me to keep my voice genuine, by not replying on anyone else’s critique. And while I understand the fear of losing one’s own voice. I do see the benefit of allowing outside influences to broaden our understanding. So within this conundrum, I work to strike a balance between what is flowing from my heart and my head. But nothing worthwhile is ever easy. Especially when trying to make sense out of the jumbled web of thoughts inside our heads. But just as the fog slowly clears from outside the window. I now see shapes and clearer focus on the task at hand. To improve my own little corner of the world one story at a time.
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