writing down the sun

writing down the sun

Posted in writing by annie on May 19, 2007

It’s staring at me.

Eye to eye, nose to nose, so close if I sneezed I’d have to apologize profusely to it and hand it a tissue.

This project is the mother of all intimidating projects. It won’t let me go, but it won’t let me start it, either.

OK, that last bit is rubbish. I’d love to throw the responsibility for my seeming inability to get a handle on this thing off on the project itself but the truth is, it’s my baby. No one is forcing me to do this except some inexplicable inner drive to see it out there – a conviction that it needs to see the light of day, and that others need to have it. I take no credit for the genesis of the project – the underlying ideas are neither original nor are they particularly earth-shattering. The uniqueness lies in the way I discovered they could be strung together and connected to form a sturdy foundation for something everybody wants to learn how to do, desperately.

(Vague enough for you? Sorry about that. Can’t be helped.)

And now, the self-imposed deadline is but two months away – less than that, really. And while progress has been made, it’s of the delegated variety. Now, it’s time for those who’ve assisted me in this to step back and turn it back over to me. It’s time for me to step up and run the ball down the field, to use a trite sports metaphor that I despise.

And for the life of me, I can’t seem to muster the … the gumption, I guess … to get it going. It scares me, this project, for a lot of reasons. One is that it will require me to practice what I preach. It has the power to reveal me as a fake or a genuine person of integrity. I believe myself to be the latter but I also know we all have the capacity to appear, or behave, as the former. And that scares me a bit. Another reason is that it will require a willingness on my part to abandon, with finality, all my excuses for “Why I Haven’t _____________” (fill in the blank with any self-improvement project I’ve undertaken over the last 40 years).

(I still don’t feel 40. When am I going to feel 40?)

And yet, I know – even as I know I’m totally free to abandon this project and liberate myself from its awesome power over my feelings of adequacy and self-worth – that I’m going to hold my breath and dive in. I know I’m going to start, and I’m going to go great gangbusters for days on end, and I’m going to run into brick walls, and I’ll step back, bloodied but unbroken, regroup, and try again, and that some days will seem like endlessly shoveling a mountain with a teaspoon, and other days will feel like racing the wind, but when all’s said and done, there will be a finish line. There will be a closing, and an opening. An end and a beginning. And I’ll shake myself off and start all over again. I know this because that’s what I do. And I can’t really stomach the thought of being any other way.