I wondered if I should ask what I should write about. What do any of you want to read about? About my childhood? My past? My present? My future? My terrors? My joys? Nothing about me but instead about more interesting things? The things I notice in the world. The fields and fields of sunflowers off the highway in the south of Spain – as I watch them endlessly stream by I think of how beautiful they are, and of how the people who live there probably don’t notice the beauty anymore. I think of the beautiful people and places that surround me that I may no longer be noticing.
Should I share my fears of not getting my book published? Or of getting it published? Is there anything I could possibly write that could add value? That everyone (or someone) would find interesting?
My daughter told me the other day that she loves art history. I suggested she consider a career that involves art. She laughed, agreed, and then informed me that a career involving art wouldn’t do enough to impact the world. She wants to impact the world. To make a difference.
Then I laughed, because I’m still trying to impact the world. To change it and save it in some ways, perhaps. Not that it needs saving. But I look at my career choice and realize I’m trying to “save” one starfish at a time. I’m driven to provide value. To make a difference for my clients, in their work and their lives. I want to share everything I know and everything I’ve learned and everything I’m learning – in the hope that others will be better equipped than I am to journey through life
I step outside myself and my daily life, as best as I can, and observe my decision to write this book and to see it through. I question why I’m doing this. Why invest the time and the energy? Why expose myself and my past? I certainly have enough to fill my days without this added effort. I certainly don’t need the extra stress of working to get my book published, of spending my time in social media to reach as many people as I can (so that my book can be published and sold). I certainly don’t have a compelling need (any longer) to tell my story so that people “understand.”
And yet I do this. I sit in the early mornings of my vacation and ponder what I can share on Facebook that would be engaging. I end my days with time at my computer, trying to think of something worthwhile to blog and post. I want to reach people, to touch people, to impact people. I want to help others find ease and release and joy. I know it’s an inside job, but I think I have a hidden hope that somehow by sharing my inside job, others will have an easier time finding their inside job. Besides, I simply love to create and to tell a story and to write.
But what should I write about? What do you want to hear?