Today has been a slog. I’m throwing words down and hoping they make sense. I’m not sure they do. This post, for example, is comprehensible to me as I write it, but I’m not entirely convinced it won’t appear to everyone else as something along the lines of fjshej jqkjdmwj 277bnfjuf df jjd.

I know, of course, that this is part of the process. That the trick is to write the gibberish anyway and not let it chase you away from the work. The trick is to not fall in love with the delete button. That button will be there tomorrow, and if the words do prove to be nonsense I can erase them then.

I have to remind myself of this. I have to remind myself to keep laying down words and sentences like railroad ties, and if I forget what it is that I’m doing or why I’m doing it, to trust in muscle memory to see me through. Trust that I’m building a path that leads somewhere I want to go.

I don’t want to write this weird little post. I’m doing it because I have to. Because I think it matters that I do it. If only to me. The work matters. The simple action of it.

Writing is an act of faith.  I’m not an atheist anymore.