Letting go

Who do you model your dreams and ambitions on? Just a few days ago Keitu ‘BlackScribe’ Reid came to the realisation that the picture of success that she had been drawing was actually a picture of somebody else’s face.

Pictures by Kroshka Kapron (c)

I know. I have been quiet.

During the last week or two I have been contemplating my journey; wondering if the steps I am taking to make my writing dream come true are the right ones.

Sadly, they have been wide off the mark.

I realised I have been trying to mimic other people’s dreams and achievements. Often times I imagine I am Paulo Coelho and my books are read all over the world. Other times I will my wishes to come true. Desiring.  Praying.  Imagining.

I don’t know if you have read The Secret? In the book it advocates that you must visualise the things you want most. And Voila! In no time your dreams will come true. So there I was – lying still in the middle of the night visualising scores of book signing events. Hmmm.  None yet. Something tells me I actually have to work at this and not just fantasise about it.

Messages from The Secret are similar to many other inspirational statements we receive from talk shows or magazines i.e. ‘believe and you will achieve your goal.’ It sounds simple. It is not. Nothing worth having is just a fantasy away.

My goal has been to publish scores of books; but I do not want this to be my only ambition anymore because if I do not reach this goal I might feel insignificant, and – as selective as human minds are – I just might disregard all other successes that may cross my path. And (as I noticed I do) I might not appreciate all the many other accomplishments that I have already achieved. Secondly, I would rather focus on me and the words I write on paper; who knows what the end goal would be? If there is one at all? Maybe the only goal is to purge my thoughts so I may be free? Maybe the aim is for you to find this and re-evaluate your own path.

Oh – and the vision board. Do you know those? I had one in my room plastered with authors I admired – I wanted desperately to be in their shoes.

Hmmm. I was so fixated with where I want to be – I sometimes forgot to be who I am. More especially who I am NOW!

So, some days ago it clicked!  I tore down every bit of paper that had an image of someone else’s life – and only kept pieces of generic inspiration like art and charming landscapes. I crunched the vision board into a little puny ball and immediately felt lifted.

Do I still want to be a writer? Hell yes! But do I want to be another Fred Khumalo or Paulo Coelho? Most certainly not. As much as I admire them – I can never ever ever be them. Ever.

But I most certainly can be me.

When I ripped certain images of how a writer should ultimately be like – at that moment I trusted that my future will unfold as it is meant to. I do not know what it takes to be a famous writer. I do not even know if it is in my stars to be one. And I do not care. I like writing. It makes me make sense of a very complicated world. It is my meditation. That’s all that matters.

Image: Kroshka Kapron (c)

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