here i am struggling, yes struggling with the writing. sometimes i get to a point and somehow it is stuck, not blocked, just stuck. i can write like an automatic machine gun, just not what i think that i want to write... it is try this, try that. try again. then i don't like it, i start all over. i feel stupid and inept, i go around in circles. i know that this is part of the process. it is no different from doing thermodynamics or electrodynamics... lots and lots of trials. you think that you know what the tread to the solution is, you start solving the problem, somewhere you hit a snag, either you made a mistake along the line or you are not on the right path. you go back, you start again, you look for the mistake... you do this until you get it, you do this, you burn the midnight oil, you do this many many times. you think that you are going mad. then the next thing is that you get distracted, you start other projects... but you know that if you do not work on it, the problem will not solve itself. you return, you labor, eventually it clicks, and it starts flowing, you break through.
discipline is what keeps me at the writing, is what keeps me trying and trying again. failing and trying once more. discipline was the one word that kept ringing in my head when i returned to switzerland after living in germany for a couple of years. that was roughly ten years ago.
once in a while i get an e-mail from those brave enough to dwell through the rather difficult reading that one of my blogs is. yes it is a personal blog, and it is as authentic as anything i have ever written, as authentic as i can generate it, and it belongs to fiction. out of some events in my life i put together a story, the story of my struggle with the events, the happenings, the very day to day of getting myself back to where i want to be. this one is an interesting e-mail, it comes from across town, or at least is originating from a server in the same city that i am right now. i have no clue as to who this person is, but the two or three questions asked are indeed good ones. one of them i will try to answer here.
in the blog mentioned, a blog that i plan on taking off-line one these days, i go through what sometimes feels like my emotional vomit caused by having some sensitive buttons pushed. this brave e-mailer asks me "why did he push your (my) buttons?"
the answer is simple enough, he did not intentionally push my buttons. i was not careful, and my exposed buttons rubbed against his rough edges. alternatively it was perhaps my rough edges that accidentally triggered his buttons.
although the fact that there are a number of men active in various roles in my life surprises only me, the man from the blog was different. he totally got under my skin, and to me it is for no other reason than that he and i most likely share so many passions and dreams. i never before in my life had struggled so intensely with the realm of my own existence, and it was about time, it was overdue. i am glad he showed up in my life, uninvited, seductive and handsome. it was a lesson i needed to learn, and it was beautifully wrapped. this is not sarcasm, and it may indeed take another book to explain what this last paragraph is about. it is about detail.
what needs to happen, happens. choice is about the ability to embrace it. happiness is an elusion. serenity and peace of mind is a reality.
