I feel like I have to write something, anything. I have no idea where I am going with this post (which is unusual for me) but I can only hide from the fact that I have a neglected blog for so long. I can only pretend that all of the ideas that keep materializing out of seemingly nowhere in my mind do not deserve to be voiced in print for so long. So, begrudgingly and ironically I am sitting down to write, today, now. I could keep making excuses about how an unplanned 4 day hiatus from school (just a small natural disaster to blame) has left me with my 3 children at home and no time to write, but hey, this is my life and much of what happens in it, for better and worse, is unplanned. The irony comes from the fact that in the not so recent past, I finished reading the book The War of Art by Stephen Pressfield. While the gems that come from this book are too numerous to mention, one piece stuck with me, and I have been trying my hardest to deny it. “There’s a secret that real writer’s know that wannabe writers don’t, and the secret is this: It’s not the writing part that’s hard. What’s hard is sitting down to write. What keeps us from sitting down is Resistance.” I could write the book on resistance (no pun intended). Resistance is a good friend of mine, we go way, way back. But what keeps playing over in my head, for months now, is that if you want to be a writer, you have to actually write. Not a novel concept (wow I am funny today). Yet some part of me, apparently the part of me that doesn’t think that I can/should/am good enough etc. to be a “real” writer, keeps winning out over the part of me that desperately wants to and needs to write.
For all of us that is the easier road, at least in the short run, to let the resistance win. It has all the rational arguments, it has all the ammunition of why you will fail at what you want to do, it will not hesitate to tell you how childish and silly you are to think that you can be something or someone different than who you are today. But if you’re lucky, that meek little voice inside you that’s telling you to be different, to start something new (or restart something from your past) will be persistent, will bounce back from the continual bullying blows of resistance, and one day will force you to be who you were meant to be. Having at least written something today, I’m starting a path towards evening the score with my own resistance.