Chasing Inspiration

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

In This Moment

I belong to an online writers group where we share motivation and encouragement. One of the exercises we have periodically is to write about who we are and where we are at emotionally, intellecutally, physically, spiritually in this moment. I wrote today and I had to post it here. It's about fear. It doesn't have epiphanies or lofty answers or answers at all really. It's just me, in this moment. Honest and vulnerable. The type of thoughts I would normally keep in a journal tucked out of sight. But part of being authentic is being honest and vulnerable. I ask my coaching clients to become this way with me. The least I can do is rip open the vein and bleed a little myself. I encourage you to do the same. It's not comfortable. And it can sometimes be messy. But it's real and true. And I want that for all of you - the ability to be real and true.

In This Moment....

In this moment I am surrounded by my demons. A gut-wrenching, stomach-twisting, brain-paralysing fear that I will never write. That I will never finish. That I will never accomplish my dream. That my passion is misplaced. That it's all an illusion created by a dissatisfied soul. That I am lazy. That I am rebelling against the better angels of my nature. That 9-to-5 is what I am born to do. All I am born to do. Nothing more. Nothing less.

In this moment I stare at the sunflowers I have positioned to the right of my computer at work. In this shades-of-grey cubicle, they offer sunshine and whisper to me incoherent words of hope. I stare at them and I am grounded, if only for a little while. Until the demons start to seduce me again.

In this moment I crave silence in my soul. So I can hear my thoughts. So I can find my voice again and speak. So I can have peace. So I can know that peace does exist and isn't a wistful wish tossed up to a falling star.

In this moment I hear the clack of keyboards, of good, dutiful worker drones pushing through their call lists, connecting with applicants who desire higher education. I hear muted conversations and nasal cackles. I feel alone in the middle of business and not a little lost. I want to jump up from my cubicle and yell and convince someone that there's more than these glass walls and shades-of-grey cubes and pointless conversations trying to sell the idea of knowledge. I want to toss my project lists to the four winds and dance on my manager's grave. I want to shuck this life of other's expectations and conformity and politics and perceptions.

At the same time, i feel naive in this want because no matter where I go or what I do, the world is made up of shades of grey and politics and perceptions. Visionaries are lost by those who are afraid of different. 9-to-5 means shackles but it also means regular pay. Security in exchange for freedom. I'm torn. I'm tired. I'm afraid.


  1. Hey Naomi,

    Nice to see you writing! I think you have described (eloquently) the fear that all of us have who are trying to lead this crazy writing life. When you're not one of the Golden Few who are already making a living by writing, it's so hard to get overwhelmed by all the day to day details of having to make a living the old fashioned way, which often sucks the very life from our inspiration. Those gray cubicles are my own personal hell (which explains all the prints and bright colors I have all over mine). But I think you have to step beyond the whole question of what you were meant to do and simply do it because you love it. Because it is as essential to your sanity and life as breathing. Pull out that club, girlfriend, and go on a hunt for inspiration!

    Oh yeah, I also wanted to let you know that my writer's blog has moved: so you'll want to update your sidebar!

  2. Thanks for the updated link to your blog. I now link to you.

    Something you said struck me in a funny (not ha ha funny) way. I need to mull it over and reply but I wanted to say thank you. Today is a bad day on top of a bad week that culminates a bad month. Or two. The words, once written and released from within me, started to tear down the fear and the frustration and refocus into flying. Barbara Samuel is a mentor of sorts of mine and she held my creative soul in her hands and reminded me that I am a writer. The day-to-day, that's just the stuff of living. It's not who or what I am.

    We should all be so lucky to have reminders of that in our lives. I am honored, and humbled, and blessed.