I am at an interesting transitory stage of my life at present, where inner strength and balance are particularly essential. I feel as though I am adrift in a dark ocean, surrounded by the stars, floating at the horizon between heaven and earth. I am very alone--and yet there is an incredible spiritual power in this solitude. Trying to bring my book out into 'the world' has unquestionably turned the page of my existence to an entirely new chapter. There have been many high moments and many low--amazing breakthroughs and painful disappointments. Such is the way of the powerful play.
On the external side, many struggles abound which involve the dependability of others, something that is important, but something that I myself cannot solely rely on. At the end of the day, I am the only person who can truly hold myself up--myself and my soul--and I must maintain that inner stability to survive the toils of the outside world. Last month, I officially began my search for a literary agent. I have already received a few rejection letters, and am bracing myself for many more. The key to surviving disappointment is to never give up, and no one else can give me the power to endure all this--it is up to me.
I know that very few people will actually read this post. But that is all part of what I must overcome. I will post anyway, even if no one reads. Someday, someone will--but right now, what matters is that I am here for myself. My book is never going to get anywhere if I let my own spirit wilt.
On a lighter note, the writing of Book II continues to fascinate and tantalise me. I have experienced countless synchronicities (meaningful coincidences) in regards to the uncovering of characters, themes and plots. Constantly, I feel as if there is a sacred bond between the universe within me and the universe outside of me--as above, so below--and that bond is what opens the doors of the cosmos, what delivers and receives me, what fuels me and challenges me, inside and out.
For this post I will include a sketch of Ervine, Alastair's grandson, who plays a major role from Book II onward. Like many of my characters, I have had Ervine since I was ten or eleven years old. Getting to write in his voice has been a marvelous experience--his narrative style is delightfully intellectual yet vivid, fun, cerebral and thought-provoking. I love the work I am doing--and that is the source which kindles itself eternally, overflowing independently from deep within!
In the spirit of the Dead Poet's Society, I would like to close off this post with a quote from the great Walt Whitman:
Oh me! Oh life! of the questions of these recurring,
Of the endless trains of the faithless, of cities fill’d with the foolish,
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light, of the objects mean, of the struggle ever renew’d,
Of the poor results of all, of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me,
Of the empty and useless years of the rest, with the rest me intertwined,
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
Answer.
That you are here—that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
