Holding twelve new pages high (holding my iBook over my head), I'm alive with pride. I'm writing with passion. In the past three days, I didn't count Sunday, I've written a third of a chapter. It was painless, I sat down and let it happen. The joy is overwhelming, no more heavy heart, no more rotting carcus of a project.
My wife, the "real" writer of the family, is also proud of me. I like this, it means I'm on her good side. She is currently looking for publishers for her childrens book, she saw it as a shame that I might lose a once in a life time shot. I couldn't agree more, but being on this end of the fence often lends itself to the blindness of success. When looking down the hill to the barer pastures of some, do not be so blind as to think that the same pests may come your way. In fact, remember that there is a race, a competition, to be played out in all situations. If you are not watering your grass to keep it green, someone else will. When you open your eyes from a lazy nap and find your lands being worked by another, you will feel overcome, because you have been.
I have been spared that tragedy, and for this mercy I am grateful. My life is green in all pastures. It was my doing that some things went undone, and it is by my hand that they will be made whole.
This probably sounds philosophical, it's OK, I feel that way. It only matter that my feet are planted on the ground, that my hand is working my land, that my life is green.