Off the Hook

I admit it: my phone has been shut-off and there is no money to pay the bill.

Out of normal habits of communication, it makes it hard to coordinate with my son afterschool. I am unable to reach my daughter, even if she did want to hear from me. The anger and hurt of divorce can only be expressed through Emails, or better left in silence.

Work is not only inconvenienced, but threatened. Things are harder to get done, materials priced or ordered. Clients, unable to reach me, will call someone else. All of this makes it harder to get the damn thing turned back on again.

Yet, the quiet has its advantages.

Saying to myself that I want to be a writer creates immediate consequences. Every morning I stop to write a blog entry drives one more nail into the door closing on my construction business. The less time I am out there doing the work on houses, the fewer calls I get for more work. That phone has actually been growing quiet whether I have paid the bill or not.

In that looming silence, my voice rises in tenor and action. I am writing more. While I am home, trusting and waiting for my son to arrive, in that silence, I am casting for ways to get paid to write more instead of imagining rotten homes in need of repair. With far too many bruises and scratches up my arms, a sore back from carrying too much plywood, a lifetime spent openly promising, then secretly wishing I was doing something else, I raise my voice.

This is no easy task: just knowing what you want and the Universe delivering. All sermons on DVDs, at workshops, and on the Internet, the countless editions in the profitable business of self-help books to the contrary, I feel mired in mud up to my waist, trying to move forward, and getting absolutely nowhere.

Panic rises more quickly than my own voice and threatens to drown me out.

Fortunately, there are markers along the way. Each page of yellow pad filled, each entry uploaded punctuates my determination. Each comment graciously given in response to my words arouses more blood to the passion. Daily analytics excite my confidence to see 10 or 20 readers consistently drop by my site, and challenge me to remain confident when I see others with thousands of visitors.

It takes hard work to remember that 2 years ago, the sludge was so thick, over my head, I was smothered, buried in an accelerating mudball rolling towards that same wall through which I have wanted to pass my entire life. No mere determination, no amount of jack-hammers, skilsaws or dynamite is going to break it down.

Only with authentic, consistent, thoughtful and heartfelt steps can I move along it, discover its end, and simply walk around it.

For starters, today, I will have to do what it takes to get my phone back on its hook.

Please share with your friends

Tweet