Discipline brings its own calm. Writing, practice, eating, paying the bills, they all swell to overtake me if I don't maintain some calibration of tranquility. I started organizing my blog writing and last week started writing my Street Signals. Of course, I don't look so military, so a return to discipline really means a dedication to...being consistent. Not fluttering too much with every internal wind.
This week I wasn't sure how to keep it up. There's so much going on in the world and to top it off, I've realized I hate almost everything I've written for my next book. So, here I was, digesting my failures, my fortunes and staring at a screen and another record-breaking downpour, outside my window. And while I was staring I resolved to find calm. So, it's a bit less like waiting for the clouds to break, which they eventually do, and more like calling on the forces inside to find a break of their own. For a year I've been tired and feeling oh-so defeated. Now, that the humbling tumble of unemployment, life change and climate whirlwinds; after wildfires and walking alongside my own contradictions burning and charring all that I thought was inside me; finally the first shoots of something new. I wouldn't really call it my own Spring. I'd liken it more to my own science-fiction style birthing of a new internal world. It's something like a whole new terrain, a type of rebirth that's not beholden to nostalgia for the seasons I once knew or the world I could once rely on according to planting and harvesting calendars of the last known times...it's about starting from scratch.
The world, the more she is changing, the more she is staying the same. Time to express the calm of knowing that despite it all, the world, will go on. It doesn't even matter if we blow up the planet. Of course, we'd rather that not be the case, but then again...what will it matter if it does blow up? I'm going to stick with the internal calm and an eye towards improving things not through zealotry, which I've flirted with from time to time, but more through daily trust and action and by organizing things not in the way I thought they should have been a few years ago, but in the way that functions for me now. That means...loving failure. You can read about the journey by contemplating The Beaten Penny along with me, in my second Street Signal.