Yet risk doesn't determine or guarantee reward either.All we can do is try.
Failure to act far worse than action that fails: true or false?
__________________________________
Thinking about time-machines and dreams.
Projects and paths started, pursued, but not finished, not followed through on.
Those books I've meant to write--
I should be smart enough to solve my own problems: there's a sentiment to carve into stone on the path to folly. If we were really that smart, where would the problems come from anyway? Sometimes, you've got to ask for help. More importantly, you've got to know when to accept it. I still prefer going it alone, pretty much, and my best advisor isn't around anyway.
A friend's chance remark reminds me of what I'm actually often best at, something to do with the reader's experience amidst the flow of story, the whirlpools and aqueducts of narrative structures and strategies, though how I could have translated that sense of readerly/writerly hydrodynamics into degree success still escapes me these too many years afterward anyway. I don't think this "best thing" is only related to stories and work; it's a version of attentiveness I hope I bring to everything. (I don't quite, but I hope I do.) Still, my friend did help me to notice something worthwhile; confirmation can be comforting, if we let it.
And yet just looking at this photo, making this quick post, puts me in the mood to get wet, to go swimming and diving, to slip into the art studio and make some more body parts, to pull out the camera and aim for better shots.
So, perhaps, the self-reflective mood that has me counting my regrets will work to produce further actions worth taking.
I hit the half-century in two weeks, so I'm neck-deep in second-guessing and hesitant appreciation. Wish me luck.
