Procrastination

There are always lots of good reasons for NOT doing something;you're too tired, it's too late, it won't make any difference, you're not ready or it's too hard. Many, most or all of these might be true at any given time. Lord knows I've used them to justify an embarressingly prolific amount of inactivity in my life.

But none of them are good enough.

If I'm too tired, I should have rested more before I started the task. And if I couldn't, I should forge on anyway because you can always rest later and as Mako said in "Conan the Destroyer" "time enough for sleep in the grave!". Some of my greatest inspiration has come when I thought I couldn't stay awake for one more minute; late night college cramming sessions proved that. And my physical stamina has always been greater than I've given it credit for. I've oozed off to work on three hours or less sleep on any number of occasions and done well enough.

It's too late really has no meaning for me. I'm a night owl by nature and worked second shift for about 17 years. And even though I've been on day shift for over three years now, I can still manage to work late into the evening. I don't have any kids and there is no real "bedtime" that I need to adhere to. If you define "too late" as "too late in your life" that's a bit more convincing, as at 42 time does seem to be rushing by at lightning speed. But even this is a specious argument, ultimately. I've learned to operate a new production line at work, taken three classes (and done well in all), been executor of my mother's will, bought my own home, taken on more responsibility at my humane society, adopted two cats and moved to another city all in the space of a little more than two years. It's not too late to do anything, really; it's only too late when I have convinced MYSELF that it is.

"It won't make any difference" is a bit tougher to shrug off. Making a difference is a hard thing to quantify; Stephen King said that real evil was like quicksilver in that you are never quite able to put your hands on it. The same can be said of "making a difference". I guess in order to explain why this argument fails I'll have to resort to yet another little metaphoric story, the one about the father and son walking on the beach. This father and his young son are walking along a long sandy beach, and they come across an area where starfish, hundred of thousands of them, perhaps millions, are washed up on the shore. The young boy, curious and concerned, turns to his father and says, "Dad, what will happen to all those starfish?" The father gives him an honest answer, assuming the boy is old enough to deal with this harsh truth. He says, "Well, Son, they are drying out in the heat of the sun. If they don't get back to the water, I'm afraid they will die." The boy considers this a moment, then runs over to the nearest starfish and picks it up, ready to toss it back in the water. His father smiles, and trying to show him the futility of his action, says "Son, that's a nice gesture, but there are starfish as far as the eye can see. You couldn't begin to save them all. Throwing one back isn't going to make any difference."

The boy considers this a second, then says, "it will make a big difference...to this one."

I need to not worry about grand or epic changes occurring because of what I do. I need to remember the "starfishes" that I can save, and that even though there are scores of them that I can't, my actions might make the world of difference to those I do.

If I waited till I was "ready" to do anything, I'm afraid I would wait until I died. I wasn't ready to go to college, but I did. I wasn't ready to get a job, but I did. I wasn't ready for any of my family to die, but they did and I had to adapt. I wasn't ready to become an adult, but somehow, it seems to have happened, quite independent of my own wishes. Anything worthwhile is going to entail effort that is often plagued with unpleasant aspects. That doesn't mean it isn't worth doing; it just means that it won't be easy. I guess I have to decide that I am "ready enough".

Everything is too hard. As my therapist pointed out to me, getting out of bed, brushing your teeth, washing yourself and changing clothes takes effort. If we all balked at things that seemed too hard, we'd never solve any problems, begin any journeys or complete any tasks. Certainly there are things that are beyond my reach but I won't ever discover what they are if I don't at least try.

I am a writer. I'm good at it. I've allowed the ability to sit fallow for a long time, only occasionally dipping into that well and drawing out some of the crystal cold pure water that awakens and invigorates and inspires. It's daunting and frightening at times to visit that well because it's transforming and it requires me to be awake and aware on a level that I'm not used to. But I have to do it. I want to do it. I must do it. If there's anything that I might be able to contribute to the world now, it's going to be through the written word. The spirits have spoken, and truth to tell, they told me something I already knew.

I need to write. And so I will. Every day, somehow, about something. It will often be disjointed or incomplete or unsatisfactory, but I will write nonetheless. It's what I do and it's what I am (or can be) and there just isn't any reason not to.

Onward.