The Super Human Effect

Here I am, faffing about as usual, making too little time for what I feel I need to do, too little time for what I know I want to do and almost no time at all for writing, which is who I am.

So, when my wife tells me that one of her friends has written a book and had it published and suggests that I might like to read it, I invite you to imagine the resistance I felt on so many different levels.

My ambition is to get published.

What's stopping me achieve my goal is this:

I have to revise my first drafts but don't have a mechanism in place to do it.

I rather write first drafts and feel compelled to start another one.

I have a shelf or two of books that I really do need to read. I haven't even finished The Heroes yet, how slack is that?

So, here is a friend of my wife who has somehow managed to get published and here she is offering me the opportunity to read his book.

Last night I picked it up and began reading the last chapter in order to convince myself that there was nothing here for me. I expected it to be pretty well unreadable. I was certain it would be entirely without interest.

I am writing this post quickly because I need to finish this remarkable book that immediately captivated me. It is full of honesty, it is written from the heart, it is about a man very much like myself experiencing the way that life is. I am finding it inspirational and helpful. It is about writing and life and all the best parts of the human experience. I heartily recommend it.

The Super Human Effect by Dennis Rodriguez

Meanwhile, the chickens are thriving, they have taken to sitting on my shoulders like giant parrots. The whole garden has been transformed by their presence. I am talking positively here, but there is an enormous amount of chicken poo to contend with.

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Letting Go

Whew!

I've been out and about lately.  First at a Freefall writing retreat with the wonderful Barbara and then in Devon for the wedding of two very dear friends.

I had to abandon my chickens to the care of my daughter.  I was concerned that she had not received the appropriate amount of training for such an important job, I was scared that my chickens would suffer terribly from my absence. 
Who would sit in a chair in the middle of our lawn watching them for hours as they pecked about? 
Who would get up at first light to let them out in case they were fed up of being cooped up (literally!)? 
Answer:  Nobody, if I'm not there.

I had to let these thoughts pass through my mind and then release them.  Chickens are only one symptom of my incessant worrying and speculating and wanting everything to stay exactly as it is.  Allowing them to just be as they are and trust everything is how it should be is good practice for the rest of my life.

In the event, my chickens were perfectly happy on my return, though my daughter was a little apprehensive in case they made some form of complaint against her.

The spokeschicken (above) had no comments other than "Can we have extra corn?"  so that was a relief all round.

My writing is better if I allow it to come rather than plot it out in my head and try to deliver some pre-conceived scenario.  It might not always go where I want, or even where I expect it to, but in many respects that's a much better way for me to be.  In writing as in life.

So, back to practising letting go, releasing, relinquishing control over the uncontrollable, feeling that everything is as it should be.