In spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing. — Vincent Van Gogh
A few days ago, I contemplated quitting the Write Right blog for a while. Take a sabbatical. Leave it to its own devices.
The idea visits every so often, as it does most writers. As of late, though, it’s been a frequent guest. I love writing and words and language, but I’m tired. Burned out. What I feel is not Pressfield’s or Goldberg’s “resistance.” This is something deeper, perhaps something systemic. Catastrophic failure imminent. Abort, abort, abort.
Part of me says, “Yes. Stop blogging for a month. Take a break. Work on something else for a while.” Another part of me argues against it. It says, “You were made to write. How can you not write?” I have no answer for that voice. I stand there, mute, hands outstretched.
What to do? I don’t know. Earlier today, I felt more like myself than I have in months. I found myself echoing Van Gogh. I said I would fight. Now…the weariness returns. My shoulders bow beneath its weight.
Perhaps that where the answer lies. I’m not designed to carry burdens alone. No one is. I’m supposed to come to the One who offers rest for the soul. I’m supposed to speak these aches and uncertainties to Him and my community. I may not glean a plan of action in speaking the words, but I can take comfort in knowing He is with me. My friends will carry me when my steps falter and the world turns dark.
The answer, too, may lie in focus. This blog sometimes becomes a chore rather than a joyful expression of praise and adoration to the One who created me and gave me writing and artistic abilities. No wonder I get tired of it; I’ve lost aim. I need to recenter. I may still be tired of writing, but I will at least know I’m trying to head in the right direction. I won’t be taking a break because I think I need it but because God says to be still and sit with Him for a month or two.
Where does that leave me? I honestly don’t know, but I do know this: I sometimes have to get good and lost before I can find my way again. I have to keep wandering, staying alert to God’s presence and trusting He will direct my steps.
Image: Laddir Laddir (Creative Commons)