Birds Still Sing in The Mud
Creator: Hieronymous Bosch 1500 | Credit: Wikimedia Commons
Sadly, this is a familiar place for me.
Your pursuit of a dream as a creative writer: the hopes and grand aspirations of a colorful soul that bleeds on this harsh reality.
You picture yourself standing before an assembly of passionate intellectuals, giving a lecture on a subject matter you brilliantly covered in your latest best-seller.
They’re invested in you. You’re invested in them. You travel the world to discuss your characters and the underlying themes you wittingly weaved into your high-concept premises.
Outlets want to pick your brain. You cover issues.
You had fun on this trendy podcast where the real you was given carte blanche.
And then, you snap back. Bills are past due. Your 9-5 is stagnant. Your isolation becomes increasingly loud. This dream of yours seems more and more unattainable. It’s slipping away from a grip that grows feebler by the hour.
How can you succeed from a place of struggle? How can your light shine when there’s no bright star beaming in your skies?
A few intrusive thoughts make themselves known: You should give up. Let it go. Give in to this strong current that appears to pull you inward. It’s the easier route.
BUT BIRDS STILL SING IN THE MUD.
What you fail to realize is that you are one interaction away from a resounding success, one project away from a groundbreaking advance. Your persistence is the only reliable factor—the only guarantee that something MAY happen.
Find the love. Recall your dreams. You have one life to forge a legacy. The words you paint are beautiful strokes on the canvas of our lives. This gift of yours was entrusted to you for a reason, whether you share the faith or base your beliefs on more logical systems.
There is no better escape than to escape.
Fight. Sing as you sink in the mud.
