Labor of Passion: Lessons from Mr. Tanner
These last few weeks have been an absolute blur. I've encountered joys and challenges, and in the midst of it all... writer's block.
For a while I beat myself up about my lack of dedication to this space. But I'm learning that in writing, as in so many other areas of my life, I need to give myself grace. I don't want to publish what I would consider to be lackluster content just for the sake of filling a feed. I should write when I feel compelled to write. This is my blog. I am, in fact, entitled to write at my own pace.
Writing, for me, is a labor of passion. It's only good when it flows from my soul. I cannot force it.
As I thought on this over the weekend, I remembered a song from my childhood that spoke to this exact notion. "Mr. Tanner" by Harry Chapin tells the story of a gifted singer whose occupation is dry cleaner. Urged by friends and family to make a career out of his talent, he attempts performing professionally...
But music was his life, it was not his livelihood,
and it made him feel so happy and it made him feel so good.
And he sang from his heart and he sang from his soul.
He did not know how well he sang; It just made him whole.
Mr. Tanner failed to make it as a professional singer and returned to discouraged obscurity in Dayton, OH. I don't intend to go that route.
I never want writing here to be a chore for me, a grind driven by deadlines. This is an outlet, a reservoir to capture those fortuitous occasions where words gush from my heart like an open fire hydrant. When the flow slows to a trickle, I know it's time to stop. To reassess. To relax. To regroup. And then when I'm ready, I trust the words will return.
I'm not trying to accomplish anything big here. I'm just a girl with a laptop and voice that has only just started to emerge. In retrospect, will I love every word I write? Probably not. I'm no genius and I'm my own worst critic. But I know that writing here, even on an inconsistent basis, is scratching an itch deep within my being.
I suppose, after all, that writing is my life. Not my livelihood.
It makes me feel happy. It makes me feel good.
I write from my heart. I write from my soul.
And I do not know how well I write. It just makes me whole.
Image Credit: http://sarahbessey.com/link-vol-40/
