You must remind yourself: your audience is one, the work is the end, failure is the path.
I’ve always thought writing to be a primal thing for me, but if that were true the opposite statement would manifest. Writing is the highest form of thought. At present, I’m resuscitating my thinking from the pit. I remember what I once wrote, I see what I now read, and I cringe. The reminder is that I write because I have to, and I write for the person I am becoming.
The practice has always fit the identity. Right now, I am no writer. I strove for my creation to be finished while forgetting the need to create. There is no work without the practice for the practice is the end. In order to reengage the process that can propel me to this end, I shun looking back and let my mind draw out it’s meanderings, let the muse provide its song.
The path may be made of stones that look the same, but their quality differs tellingly with every step. If I choose to walk this path again, my vision will deceive me. Progress is not seen in hindsight, but in constancy. So too will my art’s strength be measured in each moment I create it rather than in every time I look back at it. This romantic view leads through blind ignorance to shepherd in transformation.
The path, the work, and the audience all point ahead. I follow.
