The Lesson of Sacrifice
The 18th of April. That was the last time I committed words to virtual paper.
Now, I'm sitting listening to Gentle Classical: From Dusk Till Dawn- a playlist on Spottify that appealed to me. I'm staring at the expanse of white page in front of me, and watching the cursor blink at me- or maybe it's winking at me? I would like all the thoughts and feelings that have rolled around in my head recently to just come tumbling out of it, all grammatically correct and spell-checked, and perfectly succinct. But that's definitely not going to happen. The inability of the winking cursor to automatically update my musings is just another lesson in the theme that permeates my life of late:
You Need To Work For Everything.
Everything.
Not one thing comes without some sort of sacrifice. Not 100grams on the scale. Not a decision to be strong and stand up for yourself when you think it's right. Not a moment of weakness where you act out of character. Not the decision to consciously remove toxic people from your life. Not even a trusted moment between someone closest to you. Nothing comes without some sort of sacrifice in this life, where you gain something, but you lose another at the same time. You may gain confidence and lose inhibition, only to lose self-confidence again. You may sacrifice time to gain self-appreciation and self worth. You may sacrifice relationships and friendships to revert your own path to where it actually needs to go. The lesson of sacrifice to my writing may well have been that I was busy learning the lesson of sacrifice. I needed to think and feel wholly without needing to write everything down. The lessons of sacrifice were, in fact, too great to put onto paper. They were all-consuming. As ever, the shifts of change move you ever forward. And, while that lesson of sacrifice is securely intrenched in me at the moment, things will begin to change again soon, I'm sure.
I'm Thirty now. That's one big thing (I suppose) that has changed since I last wrote. There are so many things I want to say about turning thirty, and about what happened when I closed the book on my twenties. But I want to work, and sacrifice, for that piece of writing so that I can do my own thoughts justice.
For now, I have committed to my creativity again. I want to write, and express, and think, and draw conclusions again. But I have to work at that, too. So I'm hoping that me and this winking cursor will get back to grips with each other again.
Now, I'm sitting listening to Gentle Classical: From Dusk Till Dawn- a playlist on Spottify that appealed to me. I'm staring at the expanse of white page in front of me, and watching the cursor blink at me- or maybe it's winking at me? I would like all the thoughts and feelings that have rolled around in my head recently to just come tumbling out of it, all grammatically correct and spell-checked, and perfectly succinct. But that's definitely not going to happen. The inability of the winking cursor to automatically update my musings is just another lesson in the theme that permeates my life of late:
You Need To Work For Everything.
Everything.
Not one thing comes without some sort of sacrifice. Not 100grams on the scale. Not a decision to be strong and stand up for yourself when you think it's right. Not a moment of weakness where you act out of character. Not the decision to consciously remove toxic people from your life. Not even a trusted moment between someone closest to you. Nothing comes without some sort of sacrifice in this life, where you gain something, but you lose another at the same time. You may gain confidence and lose inhibition, only to lose self-confidence again. You may sacrifice time to gain self-appreciation and self worth. You may sacrifice relationships and friendships to revert your own path to where it actually needs to go. The lesson of sacrifice to my writing may well have been that I was busy learning the lesson of sacrifice. I needed to think and feel wholly without needing to write everything down. The lessons of sacrifice were, in fact, too great to put onto paper. They were all-consuming. As ever, the shifts of change move you ever forward. And, while that lesson of sacrifice is securely intrenched in me at the moment, things will begin to change again soon, I'm sure.
I'm Thirty now. That's one big thing (I suppose) that has changed since I last wrote. There are so many things I want to say about turning thirty, and about what happened when I closed the book on my twenties. But I want to work, and sacrifice, for that piece of writing so that I can do my own thoughts justice.
For now, I have committed to my creativity again. I want to write, and express, and think, and draw conclusions again. But I have to work at that, too. So I'm hoping that me and this winking cursor will get back to grips with each other again.
Comments
Post a Comment