As I sit here alone, attempting to work to the tunes of Michael Bublé, immersed in both the fatigue and the passions that only a writer could know, and full aware that I’m faced with a deadline, my mind wanders and I’m forced to reflect on a nagging and insistent why. Why am I working in the dark?
As I’m so accustomed to my keyboard (oftentimes I feel as if it’s a part of me), the lack of light doesn’t hinder my actual writing progress. As the figurative “light-bulb-in-the-head” idea goes, my ideas, imagination, and creativity aren’t affected. There’s light enough in there to compete with the sun. So why has my project temporarily derailed? Why, in the middle of a very important writing, did I open a new Word document and begin to ponder the darkness?
The answer is simple. I’m bursting with creative energy, my ideas are flowing, the jobs are coming in, and therefore I have enough light shining within that I realize I don’t need a light environment. Wrong. OK, so try this one on for size: I figure that the light from my monitor is enough so that I can see what I’m doing, read my research notes, and prevent me from suffering a headache from too much light. Boring. And wrong again.
So how about this? When I began this morning, there was sufficient light coming in from the window to where I didn’t feel the need to flip the switch for electric light. I’ve been so busy completing my writings, that I haven’t had a minute to get up and turn the light on. Too simple. And yet again – wrong. One glance at the window confirms my suspicions – The curtains are closed. The outside light wouldn’t have played a part. And I’ve been up and down enough today to have passed that light switch at least a dozen times.
The answer, as you can see, is one which I am trying very hard to ignore. I’m trying to sidestep it, doing a funny little dance all the way around it for fear of it stopping me in my tracks. If I acknowledge the answer, and give it life through words, then it can consume me without guilt. It can take over my days and prevent my easy creativity from finding an outlet. It can destroy.
And it has started forward, marching headstrong and defiant, on its relentless path of destruction. After all, I’m writing this article, right? But by taking a time-out, assessing the situation, and once more taking control of my direction, I am able to put a foot in its path. I am able to push it to the back corners of my mind, where it won’t be needed. And it definitely won’t be used. I’m too strong for that.
I think I’ll turn on the light.
