I have been writing a lot lately. This is a good thing. A really good thing. It’s exciting, intoxicating, and I feel like I’m being more myself, after a long, long hiatus. But the funny thing is, even with the great joy that writing brings to my life, I’m having to fight for contentment in a whole new way.
I keep thinking that some magical combination of circumstances will provide the perfect environment for contentment, like someday I’ll just be content without having to try. Because that’s how humans work, right? Eventually we achieve perfect peace of mind. Right. Still, it’s been kind of surprising to me that, even with this new motivation and enjoyment of writing, I’ve not been happy with things as they are. Under all the excitement and satisfaction, there is lurking discontent. Like, why can’t I just play music all the time? How long til the kids go to sleep again so I can write? If only I could just have people over to play music all the time, every week. If only it were simpler to find someone to watch the kids so I could record. On and on. Why? If only… And while I recognize that there is a sort of divine discontent, the kind that presses me on to bigger and better things, the kind that forces me to write even when I don’t want to, that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about feeling sorry for myself.
It’s all birthed from this feeling I have that I just want to have fun all the time. I deserve it. I just want things to be easy.
It’s humbling to realize that even in this exciting new chapter for my writing, in which I feel more like a WRITER than I ever have before, more like a person honing a craft rather than adrift upon the fickle sea of inspiration, I still find myself fighting for balance, moderation, contentment. There’s a seemingly bottomless reservoir of whining and complaining in me, and when I think about the wild joy and hope that springs up in me when I’m writing even the most depressing song (I mean, it’s winter, I can’t help it), well, I’m a little embarrassed.
Oh, for contentment to overwhelm my ungrateful heart. I want to be able to plod, and plod well.