I woke in the darkness of the place. Stale and stinking of rot and death. Standing my feet found damp, wet earth that just the night before had been a warm bed of grass. How did I get here? My eyes began to adjust to the nightmarish landscape that grew up around me as I slept.
My world had turned, and I was now in the Muck and the Mire. Fear began to set in as a voice sounded from the darkness. “This is where you belong; your journey is a fool’s errand. You will die in this place.” The rattle of a cold breath escaped my lungs.
I remembered I had gotten so far yesterday and had done so much good. I did not lie down in this horrid place, how then did I wake to such misery? Had I been foolish, as the voice implied and all I had done was walk into the place where I was to die?
No, that couldn’t be right.
Looking around and taking in the horror of the place I steadied my nerves and resolved my spirit. I was on a journey, and this Hell was not to be my home. I may not have gone to sleep here, but I find myself here all the same.
Focusing, now and dispelling the devilish voice from my mind, I gathered my things and began to walk.
Although there was no light to be found in the depths of the darkness, I remembered the light of yesterday. I focused on the light that I could sense out there beyond my fear and the condition of the space around me. I cleared my inner vision and walked towards the promise of the light.
I freaking love writing fiction, because here is what really happened. I woke up this morning and got on my knees to pray, something I do every morning. And the prayer was sweet and heartfelt and thankful for such an incredible day yesterday. I wrote more yesterday than any other single day I have been alive, and it all felt inspired, to me. As I stood my eyes began to adjust to the darkness and little dark shapes on the floor began to materialize next to my closet.
My dog had obviously not felt well in the middle of the night, and somehow, I was not woken by her while she made a stinking mess in my room. Ha.
I like the first story better though it is more colorful and holds more meaning to me than. My girlfriend and I cleaned up the poop, and I went about my day.
And actually, the further part of the story is I took my dog out for a walk immediately after cleaning up her mess and stepped in some other dogs crap. LOL.
Because here is the reality, right. Some mornings or days no matter how great the day before was or even the moment before was, I can find my self in the Muck and The Mire before I even know it. And it is a scary place to navigate for sure. Just like the voice in the story, that voice will come telling me this is where I belonged all along.
Yesterday my dad received a copy of my very first novel: Trent Foster & The Council of 10. After sending me a text, saying he had gotten it and that it looked great, he called me 20 minutes later. Approximately six pages in, he wanted to tell me all the errors he had found. Which by the way were not really errors so much as he might have a reading comprehension problem. But even if they were errors on my part, because I know I have along way to go when it comes to writing, the fear his doubt in his son brought was staggering to me. I said, hey just read the story and tell me what you think, I will talk with my editor about the errors.
Anyway, the point was yesterday was a day of inspired writing for me one in which I felt like words were pouring out of me from a higher source. Yet, the voices still came, saying. “You are no good. You can not do this. You are full of errors and mistakes, and everyone will laugh at you, and you will die a sad, horrible death.”
That voice can sometimes be made up in my head and other times can come from real people that I love. But I remember the light for which I write; I remember the feeling of being inspired.
Because whether others are inspired by what I write is not really up to me. I can do my best to transcribe the feelings and emotions to the best of my abilities, but if it doesn’t stick for you then maybe it isn’t for you. And maybe I need to continue to get better, which I assure you, I do.
All I know to do is to continue to improve on what I do and not stop because my conditions become scary and difficult to navigate. I decide to move forward and improve. It is not my Conditions that define the kind of life I will lead.
This morning, when my conditions are telling me that I am in the Muck and The Mire. I must be willing to make the Decision to push on anyway remembering the promise of the light.
Thanks for reading. Tell me what inspires you? What keeps you pushing forward?
Have a great day. Please feel free to share, like, and comment. As iron sharpens Iron one writer can help another to improve.