Back home

Last night I relaxed a bit after I got home, and then began work immediately on Chapter 17, which is now complete. The chapter will be an interesting read, and should provide the reader with an authentic experience of certain phenomena which I've embedded. My goal of course, is to offer the reader an experiential journey through the story, living the life of the character, while the story unveils itself.

I went through the chapter a couple more times to improve flow and balance within the dialogue, as well as the narrative. I'm about 90% pleased with how I've ended it, but probably feel that it could use a bit more polish, as this chapter specifically ties into future chapters quite nicely... making the reader (and the writer) want to continue on to see how it ends. As I visualize and create the story in my mind, and express it out onto the page, I realize that this is exactly what I was meant to be doing. Regardless of what happens with the work itself, I know that right here... and now... all that ever was, ever will be, and is... exists now, and so I tap into that infinite field to create... and I feel complete.

As I progress through the story, the end seems to get farther away, yet closer at the same time... it's an odd experience, but can only be attributed to a well rounded story, evolving in front of me. My urge to finish, and my urge to create do not limit or hinder the creation nor the length of the work itself... as the work knows what needs to exist to connect chapter to chapter. Amazing how it flows sometimes... how I receive a vibration within myself, which rises up through the base of my spine, and connects with my mind, sending wafts of energy throughout, connecting with that part of myself that longs to create, as opposed to the part of myself that is forced to produce during the day.

All things happen for a reason... someone's reason. I could be on a beach in the Yucatan, Mexico... writing the end to book one right now, but I choose to exist where I am, creating the environment, or the paradise that I dream of, simply to allow me to create more freely. Yet the irony is, creating freely doesn't depend necessarily on your environment, or the conditions in which you believe are required. Creation just happens out of a will, an intention to have something exist, which previously did not. To allow yourself to uniquely express who you really are. And as this is my first book, I know that future books will show my growth as a writer, but hard to imagine them being as fulfilling as this one. As now... I feel I've bound myself to a job, which will pay for my environment, and sustain the conditions which I've produced which I feel will enable better writing.

However much of my favourite chapters, or excerpts from the book were written at places like my cottage, or in the apartment where I live right now. So the outward environment does play apart, but only to the degree that you let it be.

I continue this journey, into the now, fully expecting the embrace of something much bigger than what I am currently... the embrace of an aspect of myself which is far grander, has farther reaching goals and aspirations, and can create in new and unlimited ways. What I'm really creating is a way back home... forging my own path back to a place where I've existed all along, in the stillness of forever, in the place where true creation happens, in the silence between the notes, in the distance of eternity, it waits for me. My true self... an archetype of something that will constantly evolve, constantly get better, constantly train harder, constantly know more... and as I strive to get to that place... it doesn't remain static... it grows along with me. I will get there, and this work is the path that I'll walk, the long and winding road... that leads back home.