The 2/3rds finished blues.
Just a Reminder: Starting August 13th we will be kicking off The Money Experiment: A Community Practice in Financial Simplicity. If you're interested in joining, in I'm giving away two copies of the book. Just go to The Money Experiment - Free Book Giveaway and leave a comment at the bottom to enter. Deadline is August 1st.
Now on to other things...
I've been spending a lot of time writing a book I'm hoping to finish by next summer. Some days the words flow easily, other days are like this one where the voice in my head only seems interested in questioning ever word choice, ever paragraph structure, every metaphor. Every inch feels like a battle. After a while it wears me down to the point where I dread Monday and Tuesday.
Last week was particularly frustrating. The writing angst started bleeding all over everything else. The voice criticizing the purpose and usefulness of my writing decided to add its commentary to practically everything else I did. Wherever I was I wanted to be somewhere else. Everything lost taste.
Sunday night, I talked the whole thing over with my friend Grant. Grant owns Electric Angel Studios here in Goshen and records for some great artists from all over the Midwest; he's even snagged a few burgeoning artists from Nashville. He knows I've been working on this book and wondered if I'm hitting what he called my artists period. After producing quite a few albums Grant has realized that about 2/3rds through any great project, including some that have gone on to receive quite a bit of notoriety, the artists feels like what they are doing is terrible and pointless. The light clicked on. Writing hasn't necessarily been easier this week, but I can at least start to shut out the voice since I know where it's coming from.
Not to be a optimistic Edward here but on the other side of what was probably my largest encounter with something I think I can call depression, there was something transformative about the experience. A few years ago, just after moving to Goshen, I hit another seasons of darkness. I had moved so many times in so few years that I felt like there was not such place as home. While that was a rather depressing experience, verses about this world not being our home came alive and I found myself longing for something I could not find permanently here. Last week, while it was miserable having the joy sucked out of everything I loved I was confronted with the reality that C.S. Lewis talked about when he said, "If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world"
On the other side of this I'm reminded that anything I do, no matter how noble or creative is really a temporary distraction if it doesn't find it's context in what God is doing.
Sometimes our only hope is in knowing that what is here is not the end of all things.