Seasons: A Belated Reflection on the End of Summer.

This has been an interesting season for me (and my family).  The transition into a new job in August had brought a reserved acceptance to life as a carpenter.  All the promise and hope I had laid on being laid-off--a chance to re-define my occupation and hopefully bring it in line with my passions and the things I longed to do (vocation)--seem to dwindle, rapidly, as I became desperate for work.  This blog was started in the excitement of that promise, the light of a new beginning, the anticipation of following a passion, whatever it be, into a new career.  But whether it was fear, circumstance, ignorance, blindness, or a combination of them all, I am back to where I have always been, working as best I can, and staving off complacency and despair as I cling desperately to dreams and must up inspiration in sporadic measures.

I began writing in this medium for an outlet, a chance to release the thoughts surrounding my process and as the process crumbled, my desire and discipline to write crumbled as well, hence the complete lack of anything representing consistent writing in my blog.  But the blog was an important part of my day when it started, it was a disciplined (in the sense that it was consistent) approach to writing, it was the beginnings of a foundation to build upon.  When I resigned to being a carpenter, again, I let go of my desire to write/create, the longing to let this be the way I make a living was too painful and dark in the context of work for which I have skill and pride but no burning desire.

Lately I have been reading--Pearl Buck, Pat Conroy, Charles Bukowski, Sebastian Faulks, David Mitchell, and others--and re-discovering the magic woven into the craft of excellent writers.  Writers speaking truth and experience through their prose, shedding light on realities most people would otherwise never know.  I realize that my passions lie within the pages of books and though I have many other interests I am truly excited by a good session of writing or a well crafted novel or composed poem or candid memoir.  My attempts, in my season of unemployment, do define my passions and discover a new career fell flat as I turned my back on literature and writing.

For now I work as a carpenter, I apply myself to the trade as best I can, but I recognize and acknowledge that my true passions are in words and my working heart will always be there.