Before I decided to start this blog, before I decided to self-publish my novels on Amazon, I spent three years alone.
Single. Broke. Tired of life. Health issues.
But I wrote.
I found purpose, I found hope in the simple act of making stuff up and writing it down.
That was all.
That saved me from this world, from my pain, from my thoughts and feelings.
I’m not saying that it stopped hurting, but I no longer cared.
It all made sense.
We often get so caught up in all kinds of petty frustrations and fears and events that we forget what’s really important.
We want the easy way out. The shortcut. The ten minute guide to doing this or that. We chase after all sorts of stuff we don’t have, hoping it will bring us closer to ever lasting happiness.
Sadly, there are no shortcuts. It’s just work. Just patience. Perseverance. Discipline. Doing the thing that you love doing until others learn to love it too.
I believe that we focus too much on the results. We do what we do because we expect something to happen. We live in the anticipation of future events.
And thus we forget to enjoy the work. The moment. The day ahead of us when we wake up in the morning.
And I find it so ironic that each and every single time I forget this, life has a strange way of reminding me what’s really important. What truly matters.