The Heart Grows Fonder, so PLAY BALL!

Did you miss me? Likely not, but I missed you. Perhaps it is true what they say about absence. On the heels of hosting guests in our home for two weeks, we boarded a ship for a tour of the Adriatic and Aegean Seas. As such, this vacation season has seen fit to keep me from my “work”. Now somewhat desperate to pen a few paragraphs I find myself unable to gather my thoughts. I have written and re-written at least two other pieces in my head and still can’t find the magic. Feeling like a withering soul searching the desert for the drop of water needed to quench my thirst, I am digging my fingertips through the sand looking for the words I seem to have lost. Though this post is likely to be nothing more than a muddy puddle of rainwater, it already tastes like the most refreshing thing I have ever consumed. It seems not that I lack the requisite inspiration, but rather the drive to act upon it. I could certainly blame outside sources, but that would only prove a half truth. While it is true that the kids are home for the summer and as my favorite song lyric goes, “It is hard to lay a golden egg when everyone’s around”, I know I could still find the time to write if I really wanted to. Part of me wants to and part just doesn’t give a damn. Lazy? Perhaps. Distracted? Definitely. Indeed we have much on our plate these days. Our time here in France is drawing to an early end and I will be displaced from my family for an entire month come September. It is, however, the uncertainty that follows that really has me on edge.

It would seem that we may return to life in the United States as early as October. Not having this set is stone, but merely hanging out there like a storm cloud on the horizon makes it all the more difficult to bear. The laundry list of tasks to accomplish if this is to become a reality is mind boggling and being unable to act since this is only speculative feels a bit like trying to tread water in molasses. It has ground me to a halt. Or maybe I am simply deluding myself. Maybe I am simply overthinking things as I often tend to do. In my younger, more athletic, days I played baseball like a heroin addict. I lived and breathed the game. I was fortunate to have been privately coached by a couple of great mentors one of which gave me a great piece of advice for the game and for life as a whole. He said, “A pitcher’s biggest mistake is overthinking”. Don’t think, just do. That is the way I write, and a recent over-analysis of my efforts has me throwing the ball all over the damned place. I recently began reading a book entitled “Bird by Bird”, which is a fantastic book about the art of writing, but seems to have not had the desired effect on me. Where writing is concerned, I am certainly a bit rough around the edges and without formal training, but it has been a process that has come fairly naturally to me. Thinking too much about the process of writing has dulled my senses and unraveled my nerve. So, maybe the best thing to do now is go back to playing catch in the backyard. That is where it all started anyway, isn’t it? So, I shall place my bookmark and forget about the process of writing for awhile. I will throw on my Nike jersey and “Just Do It” for a bit and see what happens. I have to do something soon because I think my wife is starting to get concerned about me. I am not myself when I don’t write. So, for better or worse, I am simply going to fill page after page with everything that comes to mind. Hopefully, somewhere in there, I will find what it is I think I lost and this won’t seem like such a struggle anymore. Wish me luck. Goodbye for now. R.