And here’s the deal, dear ones who may or not be reading this now, or in the future: this is a slow season for me right now. Many of us, surely. We’re coming up on a year in quarantine because we’ve politicized science in our country–it’s taken a toll on my motivation to do more by being less. (Or is it being more by doing less?) It’s freezing cold outside–Kansas winters are not a joke! We had a very mild one last year, and it was my only experience thus far. I’m not walking in three degree weather. And honestly, I got knocked off my groove a little, and I’m trying to find it again. I will. I always do. But right now there’s foster parent stuff and doctor of ministry stuff and Lent stuff… I beat myself up every week because I don’t post three times as planned, but there’s a truth I have to grant myself:
It’s kind of funny–I beat myself up for not meeting priorities and goals I thought would be interesting to try but ultimately aren’t to be. Like last year, I finally concluded my attempts to write fiction. I have never been a prolific fiction writer; I putter around as a playwright. I make more books than I write… or I used to. But I had this idea that I’d write three short stories and blah, blah, blah. In April, I looked around, and gave myself permission to not do something I had no passion for. I’m finite, being lesser. It’s okay to let things go.
And I’m not giving up on this blog. I also do not want to create posts for the sake of creating posts–I feel like that’s a waste of my time and disrespectful to anyone who will read it.
I guess I’m writing out for my own benefit: it’s okay to do a handful of posts a month. Arthur, stop telling yourself you have to meet a performance standard only you hold for yourself, for no reason other than you believe you should. Go do something you love. Come back to this, it will still be here.