I'm afraid I jinxed myself, that I had this great momentum going and then I stopped. It's not true - it's just a superstitious feeling - but it feels true. And yet I know I was supposed to do that other job this week. We needed the money. That little girl needed my care. I probably learned a thing or two about myself as a result. It was a good thing. I do not need to fear interruption. I can still get back to writing. I still know how to construct a sentence, and I can't obsess about ruining my end product like I only get one shot at it. Writing is a lifestyle I want to adapt, a discipline, a process. Today I choose to look inward, to explore and to create. There is nothing else before me but the present.
So I light a candle. I turn on the burner and brew a second cup of tea. I grab a pencil, a notebook and two differently colored ink pens. I'm intentional about feeling the paper and smelling the spices. I can do this, and I don't have to finish today, next week or even next month. I'll write what I'm supposed to write, when I'm supposed to write it. I just need to keep writing, to keep showing up. Like raising a child, there's no magical day when he becomes a grown-up. You just keep parenting him until that job is finished.
There's more than one reason we are told to ask for daily bread. And it's hard to experience the holiness of a moment, in which you are not totally immersed.