Forks divide my path. I travel the lumpy, bumpy path in a vehicle with three round and one square tire. That is life, isn’t it? A collection of intentions, actions and directions all aimed at a destination. Sometimes the destination is clear and shining, other times it appears muddy and indistinct. The journey is rarely, if never, smooth and simple.
The purpose of the ungainly journey is to gain knowledge, skills and experience, although I would say most of us see the purpose is to get to where we’re going. As I traverse the second half of my life, I believe the destination is always out of reach. The journey is the true purpose. I appreciate that view.
A look back over my life and I see I have aimed at this moment in time. As a child, before I knew how to write, I fell in love with stories. I did not know what it was, but it seemed there was magic in the telling of a story. Stories were portals to other worlds, other universes. Reading or movies or listening to stories was the way to access these worlds. I credit my parents for introducing me to this magic, particularly my Dad, who used to read books to us. Oh sure, he read kid’s books to us, but he also reads some fairly epic tales. The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, Watership Down, and some others I can’t even remember the names of, but I still remember the experience. Dad taught me the art of immersing myself in the story. Somewhere, amid the Lord of the Rings, I decided Dad read too slowly, and I devoured books on my own. Yup, I was that kid, up late reading. I always had a book to read and when I didn’t, I was in the library looking for one. Then I discovered how to create that magic. I learned to write. My first book was mostly pictures and some words, about a girl that finds a rainbow speckled dragon egg. I found that little notebook. I thought it lost forever. I treasure it as a reminder that this dream of mine, started so long ago, has not ended. It has evolved.
For instance, I still love to read, but I find I go back to my old favorites books, not so much for reading the tale, but to discover the author’s secrets. To look behind the curtain and discover how the wizard crafted their tale. For a long time, I did not read while immersed in my writing, afraid that I would plagiarize the author I read. Now I know my voice and style. Reading has become a joy again. Now I need to smooth that square tire. It is time for my creative journey to use the experience I’ve gained and produce results.
It’s January, 2022. Let’s grab this tiger by the tail
It is all about the journey, not the destination. Enjoy the ride.