To write, to compose, to draw, to paint, to crochet, to knit, to build rockets, that plugs us in, at least for a short time, to the garden we were expelled from.
You know what I mean—the garden represents our connection with our divine nature. When we follow our divine nature, our calling, we are egoless and defenseless for a little while—what a reprieve. The air in that space is so pure it makes us heady with the belief that we can live forever.
And you know what?
We can point others to their calling as well.
Steven Pressfield called me. I’m calling you. Pass it on.
I know many want to write, and I received comments from people who wanted to blog, so I wrote a little book titled, Grab a Pen and Kick-Ass. Not that I can tell writers how to write, but I list ten books that can. My intent was to motivate them to do it. Maybe I was writing it for myself.
We have a job to perform, and that is to do the thing that means the most to us. Some call it their calling.
Remember the movie You Can’t Take it with You? The grandfather swooped people into his house and let them work on whatever they chose. The old men were making firecrackers in the basement. The mother was writing a novel and had written herself into a monastery and couldn’t get out. The little man that grandfather rescued from being an accountant was making toys. All didn’t go perfectly—otherwise, it would have been a utopia and not a story, but the idea is there. Do your thing.
Singers sing, and painters paint, babies giggle, and children play, and kitty cats sleep on your desk because they are happy to be with you.
I talk about this subject of doing your own thing a lot because if everyone had a dream and followed it, whether they were successful or not in terms of acclaim or finances, they would still be doing what they came here to do.
They might get frustrated, for perfecting one’s projects can require patience–who wants that? And it requires perseverance and determination. Darn, and I wanted it to be easy.
It is still worth the doing.
And think about it, we would have those moments of transcendence where we touch the garden.
Watch this baby laugh hysterically at ripping paper.