No step is too small. There is only now.
On my ‘life goals’ list from 2004 is to write a book.
Words stream through my head at all times. In there (my mind), they are beautiful, fluid, meaningful. But my hands are always full, never free to pen them down.
I’m torn. I practice letting go. Letting go of the words, the sentences, the stories. Having faith they will come back when the time is right. Having faith that perhaps they will be even better then. But passion is hard to put off. It does not take kindly to being second place. It is not reasonable and logical.
So I will begin. Again. And again if need be. I will let go of perfection and just write. The fragments, the incomplete stories, the random. I will trust that, indeed, they will come together into something we call a book. And if not, I will at least have written.