Monday, September 27, 2010

Compass Points

I sometimes feel like I’m the center-point on a compass. There are so many directions I want to head, so many directions I need to head. There are times in my life when I have trouble figuring out just what to do because I feel I should be doing it all. I want to do it all. In writing my book, It Is What It Is, I found all I really want to do is write and have someone else take care of everything else that needs to be done. Alas, I can’t afford to do that. So I work at prioritizing. As an office worker in an industry setting many years ago, I learned to fight fires. Whether it was from work deadlines or personal health issues, I learned to deal with whatever the priority of the moment was. It was really a forced focus, but I think that is how many of us go about living our lives—fire to fire.

I sometimes get stuck in this compass scenario. I see all the different directions but freeze at center point. When doing this, I just go about doing those day to day living things one does and ignore the compass points swirling about my head thus ignoring the issues. At least I think I’m ignoring them. Actually, they are there on the periphery of my life.

Something I remember from my kidlet days—when you are lost in the woods, find what side of the tree the moss is growing on. Or if you live in the Pacific Northwest like me, see what side of the roof the moss grows on. That will be north. Now you can determine where south, east and west are. Okay great—now what?

All I know is that I am trying to find a way, my way. It may not be the direction everyone else heads, but I know in my heart it is right for me. At this moment I am stuck at center-point. I know I will not be here long. I’ll do what I usually do, examine the compass points swirling about and just—do it—just move off center point and—do it. I may end up with moss on my feet and back side as I slip along finding my way, but I will have moved off center-point and chosen my way before I need to fight fires once again.

Photo courtesy of Steve Snodgrass
© Copyright Michelle Clark 2010