While life is full of obstacles, things that happen that challenge me, I do what I can to jump, to improve, to move forward. Optimism is my middle name. Or, it was. I used to consider everything with the idea that my life is mine alone. That the path I have chosen is the right one. The solid one. The road that will take me to everlasting happiness. I would see things in a positive light, even within a negative situation. But somewhere along the line, I lost a piece of my goodwill feelings, honing in on what’s not right. What’s bad. What’s wrong with our world. And I’m concerned, about me.
The Devil sits heavy on one shoulder, tells me not to care, while my Angel reminds me that life is what I make it. The Devil says life sucks, why bother. The Angel counter-argues that it’s worth the effort. All the while, I simply listen to their opposing arguments, taking in what each has to say, roll their thoughts around my heart. Where normally the Angel would shine as the true winner, as of late, on occasion, more times than I’m used to, it’s the Devil who makes more sense.
My writing has suffered because of my lack of optimism. Not because I don’t want to write, I do, I know it’s the way for me to project my voice, to be heard but, my thoughts and my hands aren’t communicating because, well, I feel depleted of energy. Focus. And desire.
I have so many things to say, but haven’t. I have a story I’m working on, a chapter book for children, a kind of a mystery, but one full of love, forgiveness, morals and values, a story that turns bad to good. The narrative swirls around my mind, fills my head with its characters, the setting, the motive, and the triumph. It’s there, all of it, waiting. Waiting to come to life.
My blog, my stories, also wait. Until, like today, I find my voice spilling onto the page.
Yesterday, Rudy and I took a walk along the Southern California coast, in Laguna Beach. A soothing, no-nonsense, salty-air, full of happy people kind of place. And I felt invigorated, renewed, and happy. I felt my optimism hug me, reminding me, whispering to me, that it’s the Angel who speaks the truth. That the path I have chosen is the right one. The solid one. The road to everlasting happiness.
It is always a relief when the “better angels of our nature” come out of the woodwork to show us the way.
yes, suzanne… and difficult when ‘the bad guy’ swoops right back in, trying to take control..
This is beautiful! I always hope that it is the angel voice that I hear most vividly and passionately.
thank you, mommaboo. these days, i am a work in progress. today, i managed a blog post, tomorrow i hope to focus solely on my book. angels know best…. 😉
I have been there too many times to count. Sometimes they are my most creative times. I still write, but table it for awhile and then go back and rejuvenate it in a positive mode when I am feeling ‘up’. Excellent post — would love to follow you.
hope, i have heard for many people the hardest times are the best times to write… i think a lot, even note, verbally via a recorder, what i want to say… but i seem to feel sluggish when it’s time to put it down, visually…. thanks for reading….