(This post is a tangent to my last post, due to the fact we’ve failed quite miserably at our season two goals.)
Focusing in the present is hard. There’s a beautiful article my mind constantly returns to in The New Yorker entitled “How I Get to Write” that addresses this issue for me. In it, the author describes the place she must be in to write, a sort of “a fine membrane, like the film inside an eggshell” which she must keep from breaking in the early morning before writing.
I have tried to write more this semester, in a variety of ways. Blogs, poems, journal entries, short stories, free writing–all of these attempts are often successful for a day or two but the walls of the space where I write are also fragile and so easily broken by the future. You see, I am at a hazy moment of the life where the future is thrillingly unclear. I don’t know where I am going to be or what I am going to be doing post-May 9th (graduation day!) and that is simultaneously exciting and positively terrifying.
That underlying feeling has inched its way into nearly all of my thoughts and makes concentrating difficult, which leads to a feeling of failure in some ways. For instance, the fact that we are failing at maintaining this lovely little blog. But I am starting to realize that while expectations are necessary and thinking about the future is definitely important, there is also power in living in the moment.
And the things that creep into this fragile little world of the written word are things that can be used. I’m telling you about the haziness of my upcoming endeavors and that works. Maybe the membrane doesn’t have to be so thin–maybe, rather than breaking, it can be woven and strengthened by thoughts of fears, failures, and the future.