If my articles serve as an early morning wake up call for my esteemed readers (all of whom are amazing, and in possession of fine taste, I might add), and if my writing is a kind of ‘coffee for the soul‘, that’s as noble a goal as any for a writer to have; a privilege and an honor.
By what right do I write? By the love of loving people is the truth.
I can barely daresay I deserve it. In my more equanimous moods I’m able to give myself a morsel of credit, that yes, I deserve to be here, to express myself, to be happy.
When I talk about daring to dream, it’s not a recipe for an easy life. This isn’t a call to arms, it’s a call to wings. It’s an invitation to fly. It’s a reminder that we’re on an adventure of a lifetime.
Self-doubt/self-loathing/self-pity will rear its ferocious Cerberusian head.
“How dare you!!”
“Who do you think you are?!”
“What’s the point??”
My heartfelt advice to any adventurer on this journey of life is that now, in the face of that dour beast of discouragement, now is the time for a gut-check. You must be able to withstand the withering onslaught and say:
This is your life, after all.
What will you make of it?
image credit: Hummingbird via MorgueFile Cerberus via Wikimedia