Frankenstorm Sandy blew through last night, so I’m standing in a Giant Supermarket in Jamieson, Pa, – the only one in the area with a Starbucks – charging my phone and computer and listening to the storm reports of Starbucks refugees from as far away as New Hope and Newtown and writing my blog for today.
Silence is the moment the telephones, computer, and television all go dark at once. I have a moment when I think this could be a very good thing for my writing and for making music with a friend, but it’s dark as well as silent so even though it’s early, we fall asleep instead of doing any work (or should I call writing play because it’s fun work?).
The night is so silent that a hollow woody CRACK stands out above the wind and sends us out into the storm to find the tree that is leaning at a precarious angle, in time to hear live wood splinter and break as the first tree brings a second tree down across the road into a space between two houses.
In the light of morning, light which I had to leave my cave-like house to find, I admit to myself that I really like (and need) electricity – lights, warm showers, and internet – and while the noise of being connected to the world does distract from the “fun work” I have assigned myself, the real distraction is my hesitation to fail. Learning and improving (my reading synchronicities of these last five weeks report), requires failing and learning from each failure, repeatedly, because that is how we humans learn.
I desire to be “perfect” and so fear failure, but I want to improve. My question: Do I have the courage to provide multiple, mindful, opportunities for myself to fail this month by completing and submitting my writing to public view? Do you?