It is dark out still, only the barest hint of blue in the black sky. Faint outlines of branches swaying in the fair breeze can be seen. All is quiet still, and I am awake.
I put my shoulders down, take a forceful step, then another, pressing forward. I am called to write, I believe, and when I do not engage this call for whatever reason I feel the darkness creeping up and in. It chases me, and I must stay active to keep beyond its grasp. So, today I discard those things which distract. I put aside even those things which are helpful in other ways, which are good and right, thinking now only of my goal, of the single cause, of the primary purpose of my present being. I lean into the wind and forget what is behind and around, blocking out the voices and noises of the world, seeking to take hold of that again which seems resonating with the Spirit.
It is not a choice. My soul demands this today. I must re-engage, even if it means everything else is lost. My eyes have trouble focusing on the goal, the end, and so all other distractions must be sacrificed, and tomorrow, and the next, until I again can dance with the rhythm, and lose myself in the melody, allowing other parts to merge with the fluidity of being.
And so I begin.