do not forget what you have been given

Recently I’ve been carving out more space for thinking and reflection.  I don’t think I’ve done this deliberately, but suddenly my mental synapses are firing happily away, my tendency to pause and think is re-invigorated – not least due to the words written by others, be it through books, articles, or blogs.

The beauty of our capacity to think and feel astonishes me – taking some inward part and tugging at it, creating a need to think more deeply and communicate more profoundly.

Which makes me look at my own writing projects and think: what has got left behind?  What should I be focusing on – but I am not?

My main big project, bubbling in the background is still the ‘book’ on forgetfulness and memory, a bubbling that does not stop, but is often trampled on by my medley-like mind, churning with ideas.  I’m challenged to take time out and truly focus on it, in the manner I did in November for my novel writing project.  That project was purely for fun, but it showed me how much I could write if I developed the daily habit of working on one longer piece of work.  I’m more nervous at approaching this one – because I take it more seriously.

It’s a book about our tendency to forget – and how this impacts our sense of identity and our faith, yet often I myself forget to actually work on it (pulls face at irony).

I pray that some how I will be able to choose wisely what I focus on and when, not neglecting the important things nor stealing time from those who need me.

Something has happened to me in the past year whereby I no longer desire to ‘be’ a writer; it is what I am.  Suddenly I am experiencing something that I had always hankered after: a sense of vocation.  I can feel it running through me, fiery and passionate, desperate to be heard.

I do not know how to describe it, but I am utterly grateful for it.  I just pray I use it wisely.

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5 thoughts on “do not forget what you have been given

  1. "I no longer desire to 'be' a writer; it is what I am." Ditto. It's lovely to reach this place isn't it? AS kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies dráw fláme; Each mortal thing does one thing and the same: Crying Whát I do is me: for that I came. Gerard Manley HopkinsAnita

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