Is there something important in your heart? Some creative act tugging at your sleeve like the child wanting to know when you’ll be free to go outside to play? And is it so important that each day it somehow drifts to the very bottom of the pile and then you pretend you don’t know how this happened? Oh, don’t worry, we’re all the same. It seems to me that success of any kind, in any endeavour, is about practicing making the most important thing, the most important thing. After all, can you imagine if the birds waited ’til dark to sing, only to find they were too tired to even begin?
Love and courage,
P.S. This is why the best time for me to write is in my pyjamas, whilst still in bed, before the world can get to me.