My thoughts are like geese, rising up to form a solid V, while one or two stray off honking madly for the others to follow.
Ideas come to me hot and heavy, flamed with enthusiasm and hot air. Like paper, they quickly turn to nothing but ash, blowing aimlessly upward. Over and over I start, race, quit, re-start, limp along, get a blister, need a nap and wake up not remembering who I am or what I was doing.
I sit here wondering how to change the pattern, how to grab onto a spark and turn it into something real. If only I had a solid chunk of oak to feed the fire, so I could sit in the warmth of glowing coals.
I was standing by a cornfield, waiting to see if I could get a good shot of the geese coming and going from one of their favorite hangouts. Suddenly, the thrashing sound of wings and honks startled me and the sky filled with fleeing feathers.
I looked around, wondering if there was something I should flee from also, when I saw the cause of panic — a man walking through the field with two loose dogs, who were quite enjoying the ruckus they had raised.
The same dogs sporadically run through my brain. Their names are Self-doubt and Start-tomorrow. They are bad dogs, in need of intense obedience training.
The solution, I suppose, is discipline, but I hate that word. Stick-to-it-ness is more palatable. Or perseverance. Yes, that’s it — perseverance.
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