She still tells the story, in a wonderfully dramatic way.
One of our now teenage daughters, when she was only 8.
Atop a horse, and atop the world.
Until she wasn’t.
She quite literally fell off a horse.
I feel a bit like that with my writing. I could fill the remaining characters of this post with reasons, explanations, and excuses, but they won’t make up for the space between the saddle and the ground.
I fell off the writing horse. No matter my intentions to stay atop of it.
Each day on the dusty ground, proving to be a harder climb back.
Isn’t that the way of life though?
Lay off the sugar for 13 days, then crush an entire cake.
Work out for weeks, then forget where the gym is the next several months.
Swear off social media, then plummet into the mind-numbing scroll to the bottom.
Bang out 10 sales calls a day, then freeze in fear for weeks.
One day, atop the world with the wind at your back. The next season, atop a heap of shame, sadness, and what feels like failure.
The old saying goes, get up, dust yourself off and get back on the damn horse.
As if the gift is the horse itself.
The gift though, is having the awareness to realize you desire to get up.
You got this, courageous one. Dusty britches and all.
