remember to be missed.
May 5, 2010 § Leave a comment
On most days, I convince myself that I violently hate what I do. It doesn’t help that what I do now is just for the interim. In my mind, I’m three months ahead from now, I’m gearing up for Columbia, and I’ve got a whole new life. By living ahead, I constantly forget to look around to realize that I’m still in May, that I may actually miss what May could be if I don’t take a second to feel what right now is.
It’s hard because I’ve always looked to the future. I can almost see the path I’m going to take in the horizon, but I’m tripping all over the place where I currently am. Lately, I’ve been working the days through on autodrive. Until today. Until I realized again that I am good at what I do. I write, and I’m even better at it when I try — when I give of myself. And, lately, at work, I haven’t been giving any of myself. Perhaps writing for someone else isn’t where my heart is or where my future is, but it is where my hands can make a difference now. Every day in May. I can make a difference through my words, right now, and that may not be true two months from now. But in May and June, I have words that drive change, and I should give it all I’ve got.
Today, I self-edited two senior-level writing projects for publication, two pieces I’d had such a hard time bringing to fruition over the past week. But today I remembered who I am, what my capabilities are, and I rocked them. And then, as usual, I’d been assigned several last-minute, high-priority items to edit, to transform jumbled thoughts into inspirational calls for action. I sent the pieces back to my editor, and asked her to tell me what she thought.
And the outcome was this: I remembered that I’m going to be missed. And that is enough reason for me to make these last few months all the more dynamic and stellar. I’m going to end these last three years of writing for a hero with grace and excellence, and I’m going to remember every day that this is my last chance to wear this unique pair of shoes on this particular road, and that as much as I will be missed, I will also miss what I leave behind after May and June have come and passed.
For now, I’ll be living in the now, where I stand, where I am. And that will be more than enough for now.