November 1, 2020, brings many concerns, most of them of the “feeling type.” My parents used to caution me about this. “Feelings can’t be blended with facts,” my mother used to say.
“Oh, yes, they can.”
Take, for example, Medium.
I learned Medium’s powerful basic platform in one afternoon. I also gave up in one afternoon.
In 24 hours I went back.
The defeat wasn’t about instant publishing, publishing too soon with too few facts. It was about feeling.
“I can’t do this. Too many steps, too much room for confusion, error, embarrassment.”
Yup, that’s how I think.
For some reason those feelings passed. A friend had told me Medium works differently. He didn’t pressure me. No one did.
Sleep, that wonderful, unexplained purveyor of good sense, opened a door. A writer’s door.
Not exclusively writer, but it helps.
“Give it another try. Rejection happens only when you don’t.”
So I went back. And I wrote from my heart. For Medium.
Does it matter why? Does it matter that it’s different from anything I’ve ever done?
Does it mean I’m changing. . . learning another skill. . . realizing the future lies in numbers?
In talented numbers, in fast-changing tides of worrisome, captivating subjects?
In hope of writing something stirring, insightful, fact-based and feeling-infused
In the middle of storms, in the calm eye of center?
With the voice of one who now straddles generations. Including a small part of my mother’s?
Yes, it matters. I come as close as I can to attaining fact, feeling. . . and participation.
“Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning how to dance in the rain.” — quite possibly written by Vivian Greene.