"Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Either we have hope or we don't; it is a dimension of the soul, and it's not essentially dependent on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation. ...Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed. The more propitious the situation in which we demonstrate hope, the deeper the hope is. Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.
"
Vaclav Havel

Funky Town

I went there last night. Not the physical rendition that features music, disco lights and gyration, but rather the mental one where there were echoes, memory strobes and emotional gyrations. Mind you, I chose to go there. Bought the ticket on my own volition; I even know why I chose the destination as I stared out the windows at the passing landscape.

I'd decided that somehow I'd missed a connection in the station of my life where writing takes up residence, when many years ago I'd gotten off the train that was hurtling through the land of magazines and publishing. In doing so, I'd chosen another path: to teach a bit, to freelance, to put it all together on my own time. I'm still doing that, but there are times more recently when I find myself looking into the face of people who stayed put on the train, made connections and transfers to places that spoke of "career path" (I was tempted just now to use the word security, but that is something I can't forecast for anyone else's life).

It's quite amazing to be at a place where taking ownership for life and where I am inside of it is undeniable. Where I know what it is I can do, what I like to do, what I choose to do, and how I often willfully look away and step into the box marked Pause. I know it's up to me to keep writing because I get a charge from it. Whether it's entries into this blog or stories written just for the fact of writing them. I know that if I send out story ideas, yet don't hear back or don't get a thumb's up that it's not a reason to stop. I know that the muscle of my writing self is strengthened when I write words for this space right here. I even know that there's an agent out there open to my book idea, and that having one, two or three jobs at a time working with other people's words is not an excuse to stop stringing my own words together. I know there a whole lot of knows in this paragraph (five not counting this sentence). So... if I know this, then can I give myself the confidence to move forward? Since it's up to me. To realize that what's been—the places, people and experiences—are amazing, have happened and are no litmus test regarding who I am now or what I can still do.

Every time is different and there's a crazy kind of clarity in my life right now. I look at my face snapped during the last mile (or so) of this year's NYC marathon. What I see is pain, endurance, elation, thoughts of giving up, yet knowing that I won't. That I'll celebrate at the finish line for getting there and seeing all I did during the miles. Then I go on and decide whether I want to do it again. and in the end, whether I do or not won't matter, because I had the moment and it was good, hard and all things in between.

Today's soundtrack: "The Hustle" and this time I'm gonna dance. Arms up, eyes open, ideas poppin'.