When I wrote that last entry, in January 2017, I was still on vacation and filled with the idea that, yes, I could do it all. But I couldn’t. And I can’t. Work sucks it out of me, and what little time there is requires things which require little time – snatches of time – to do anything.
Doing nothing is worse than doing a little. Little things add up.
And it is darn hard to realize this.
I’ve been reading a book called Essentialism by Greg McKeown. While a lot of it is oriented toward business, it also talks about one’s personal life. Up front, I don’t care about my job. I do it because I need to, but it doesn’t thrill me. It doesn’t leave me cold, either; I really enjoy a lot of it, but my personal, creative life suffers because of my work hours.
And so, part way through the book (I still am reading it), McKeown asks the question: What is the one thing you are really passionate about? Yes, the overwhelming question.
For days, I pondered this. What do I really feel passionate about? What is at the core of my being? And what emerged is simply writing. Writing about everything, physically writing with a pen on paper, at the computer, expressing my thoughts. And with paper comes paint and ink and colors and words. And history and stories and ideas and the world pre-PC.
Little did I realize when I started this blog that Journey by Paper would be such an appropriate title.