By Susan Tweit
“Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become.” – Steve Jobs, 2005 commencement speech
I’m just beginning my contemplative season (interrupted though it will be, for reasons I won’t bore you with). In the snatches of time I’ve found to listen within, I already hear one very clear and somewhat scary message: It’s time to focus on writing the books I’ve had in my head for a couple of years.
What’s scary about that? Writing a book requires long, uninterrupted stretches of time – months, preferably – to work on a single project. (I don’t multi-task in writing; focusing on one thing at a time is the only way I can hear the voice of my creativity.) To carve out that time, I’m shifting the balance of my freelance work and letting go of some of my regular deadlines.
Quitting steady work requires some pretty serious courage for me – or else fiscal insanity. I think I’m not nuts, though I can’t say I feel particularly courageous right now. I am determined, which may be the spine that supports what we call courage.
Sadly, writing the kinds of books that have been nagging at me is speculative: it won’t pay until a publisher buys the finished manuscript. So I’m heading off a bit of a financial cliff here, jumping from not-very-much income for the past several years’ journey with Richard’s brain cancer, to essentially none at all (at least for now).
Gulp.
Here’s the deal: I’m 56 years old, living alone, and if I can’t find the gumption to follow my heart now … well, that would be pretty pitiful. So I’m moving on.
Not from my late love and the generous and mindful road we walked hand-in-hand. (I swear he’s cheering me on.)
I’m leaving this column and Colorado Central. First though, I want to say thank you.
To Mike Rosso, and Martha and the late Ed Quillen. Thanks for inviting me to add my voice to a fine magazine.
To all of you’ve who’ve read this column and offered your support and appreciation.
To the community of Salida and beyond – the kindness, generosity, talent, and love you offer inspires and humbles me.
To the community of the land, those wild species that weave the fabric of this extraordinary river valley, for lessons in endurance, humor and beauty.
Tonight, as the sun slid toward the western horizon in that golden trajectory of autumn, the last rays lingering on the high peaks of the Sangre de Cristos, I washed carrots, beets and chard I had picked from the kitchen garden.
I prepared my dinner, listening to a raven pair muttering as they settled in the big blue spruce tree nearby, and a few yips from a coyote “talking” from across the river.
The stars began to appear, their light, coming across distances so enormous they are measured in light-years rather than mere miles, twinkling as it bounced off dust in earth’s atmosphere.
And I felt thankful. How blessed I am to be part of this day, this community, the turning wheel of this life.
On we go …
You can follow Susan through her blog & website, susanjtweit.com, and can also read her “daily terraphilia,” a haiku plus photo posted every day on Facebook (search “Terraphilia”) and Twitter (search “Susan J Tweit”).
