LukeyoutheU Essay 5
I set aside a couple of hours to write today but events, people, and circumstance kept getting in the way. First it was the bathroom ceiling fan. It was humming loudly and effectively, as it normally does, drawing in air just fine. But this afternoon (I pretended it was for the first time), I noticed that the vent was covered with dust. I immediately set to remedy the situation. Taking some of the paper available to me, I stood on the toilet, stepping up to clean. The paper pushed the dust balls around but did not adequately remove them; I decided cotton swabs would do a more thorough job. They did but still left dust in the corners. I figured out how to remove the cover. Gingerly, I squeezed the supporting wires, wires that I thought might snap off if I was not careful. I took the plastic cover down and rinsed it in sink. Dried it off. Put it back where it belonged. Turned back on the fan, which operated as before. Done.
Where was I? Oh, right: writing. Have I had enough to eat? I checked in with my stomach and it turned out I had. But first I needed to complete my prayers. Did. I wonder if this is a good time to call X? Sent a text. It was! He'd be good to talk in fifteen minutes. I went on Facebook to bridge the time.
And so it went. As it has dozens (more honestly hundreds) of times before. I found reasons, good enough reasons, to delay what I knew knew knew was the most important thing for me to do.
Writing may or may not be the most important thing for you to do, dear reader. (Whether it is or isn't, I do recommend the pain/ joy of writing as an effective way of finding out what one thinks.) Your most important thing doesn't have to be writing. It could be cleaning the house or bathroom fan, or calling that friend; or being on time for your job, earning money at your job; perhaps it is taking care of your child by watching her today at her first basketball game. Or working on that painting, or fixing that dinner; or going to the dentist and finally getting that bothersome tooth checked out.
What's the most important thing for me to be doing (writing) has often been pushed to the side. I've had a tendency to say to myself, and to others, that writing is the most important thing for me to do but then, hours later, catch myself not actually do it. As if by proclaiming it the most important I somehow get out of doing it. I've promised myself, and others, but haven't delivered. This repeating action, of course, makes the situation worse than if I hadn't promised myself, or others, in the first place. It makes me, at best, undependable; and, at worst, a liar. A liar to myself, and others.
I believe myself a writer. I've got the "be" of "be-lieve" down: I've told myself since I was fifteen (and others) that "I am a writer." I have not greatly followed through with the "lieve" part, though. Isn't that what belief, be-lief, be-live is about? Believing in thought and action both? Thinking and then also doing?
I have to write. It is my most important thing. What I write I want to be of use to others. To be of use to you, dear reader, to you now reading this. A particular piece or even the sum of what I've ever written may or may not be of use to you, or others. Ever. But I have to write because it is the most important thing for me to do. The most important for me and the most important for my relationship with the Universe.
Is writing why I am primarily here? I, most of me, when I'm in a good mental space, think so.
My question to you, and I ask because you are smart enough and self aware enough to consider: what is the most important thing for you to be doing? What do you believe, be-live? Are you being and living it?