It’s easy to do the work when life is going well. Sitting down and writing is a joy….a breeze. And why I create is because I like it.
However I’m not after doing this as a hobby. I ant to make a living from this. To be a professional.
And professionals show up rain, hail and snow. And they know why there there. There purpose is secure.
My purpose is uncertain. Yet the only way to find it is to do the work. The active work of uncovering those layers to reveal what is deep inside.
And that brings that feeling of awkwardness. Where I’m stepping into a new territory and not feeling as good as I would like. So what? Who cares how I feel?
Will I do the work? Will I commit the time?
I’m not searching for the why. It’s right here….waiting for me to reveal it.
And it doesn’t care how I feel.