Diving For Treasure

Clouds, Sharks, & Joy

It goes without saying that there are times when we all bite off more than we can chew. I chronically attempt to digest more than I can manage, chastise myself for doing it, swear to take on less next time, and then... do it again. Binge. Purge. It's what you do when you're hungry for life, right? A little nibble here, another one there. It doesn't seem like a lot until you look in the mirror and suddenly see yourself wearing your best stress. I've always admired people who can handle it well. I don't. I was served with extra helpings of emotions, a big splat of inconvenient sensitivity, and a generous dollop of energy. 

But, as my bad knees will attest: stress is just a word for piling life on too high. If stress was a person, it would be yelling at the top of its lungs, "Stop making me out to be so bad!" After all, it is just a word. We're the ones responsible for the mantle it wears. I'm happy to say stress has not snuck in to rest between the pages of my books cloaked in goodwill.

I've always had an annoying habit of being somewhat positive. Okay... that sounds stupid. But, it's true. I enjoy most things because I will hunt out even the tiniest scrap of joy in the task and exploit it. Vacuuming the rug like I'm playing a crazy board game where I get points for wrapping the cord around the furniture? Check. Racing the clock to clean the kitchen while singing about how much I don't like it? Check and Check. The whole imperative of finding joy especially works on days when a storm cloud gathers over my head. A little spark of joy becomes the lightning that spurs me forward and releases the heavy rain. I stand in that rain. Accept it. And then, with soggy shoes, squish on to the next challenge.

In that joyful flash of lightning, I'm reminded that it's the smallest things that give the biggest boot to the tornado of negative emotions (self-doubt, lack of confidence, fear, etc.). So, when I'm racing down the hill with my shopping cart overflowing with endless revisions of my book, I focus on the joy, the thrill of the descent, the process, and let the self-doubt bounce off with the toilet paper. (Don't tell me you've never lost something off the cart at Costco weaving through their bumpy parking lots!) 

Since jumping back into the ocean of writing, I've come to the realization that I have only equipped myself with a pair of water wings and a passionate desire to swim out to the distant island of published books. Of course, that's not enough. Dreams feed your soul, but insight nourishes your mind. I've been rapidly building a boat of knowledge as if the reef shark I was face-to-face with during a dive off Maui was approaching me. A moment like that tells you a lot about yourself. 

I swam toward the shark. 

Fearless? Only if I intended to confront it. I just wanted a closer look. Like now. My eyes are bloodshot from gorging on every resource, feeling the pressure of lost time, and the determination to assemble an inboard motor on this speedboat.

As I began to research what it takes to get published, I discovered writing the story was the easy part. Turning on the oxygen tank to a new career is more than just opening the valve. I have donned my thickest neoprene suit and am diving deep… all the way to the bottom.