It’s as if I’ve finally cracked the seal on my purpose and it’s an artesian well of stories. They’ve been waiting this revelation and now I see them all and understand my role as writer, my intention, my hope, my mission. To depict characters, human beings, in the midst of their flaws, their unravellings, theirs anguish and sadnesses, in the centre of their unspeakable choices, their horrifying ones and connect us – the normal, sane, the everyday, with them. Illustrate, expose the unspeakable as human, lovable, compassionate. Human.

To illuminate the humanity of us, to create and identify the world as perfect with it’s flaws and viciousness. In fact those things offer divinity and perfection as much as any others. Ultimately to bring people, individuals together, in understanding, to stand on common ground.

Illustrate the exquisiteness of anguish and struggle. The beautiful ugliness of humanity and offer explanation and understanding of and for the unsympathetic.

If I can authentically, accurately represent the experience of a man who beats his wife, dynamically, and thus in turn implant profound understanding, empathy thereof, we will know ourselves more deeply, more completely, we will relate to ourselves compassionately, lovingly, and gracefully, and act as such. Thus is the key to peace and fulfillment for us, we humans, on this planet.

For as long as I can remember I’ve been disorganized, prone to overwhelm, an extremist of sorts. I’ve thought for years that that quality was a fundamental of my personality. With the help of my amazing coach, I got to the bottom of that yesterday, or the beginning of the bottom, anyway.

The bottom I got to began because of a conversation about why I was so disorganized, what that covered up, what is allows me to pretend about myself.

Soooo… Here we go!

When I feel like I’m behind, disorganized and overwhelmed by my life, its covering that I don’t think I’m good enough, that I am not the best choice for the job, that someone else can do it better, that I can’t make a difference. I end up feeling sad, useless and fake… and other people, not only don’t get the opportunity to contribute or participate in whatever project I am creating, my “playing small’ gravely invalidates their importance and value. I am saying, essentially “Hey guys… yeah, its way more important for me to be selfish and wrapped up in my own tempest, I don’t really care that you think its a great idea, that you may have a desire to contribute… my disorganization is more important than that.” Yikes, eh?

So this is what it comes down to for me: it is up to me. It is MY job to change the world. There have been countless folks out there claiming such things but I finally got today, that everything is related; including my inability to be organized.

It is MY obligation to serve humanity. To inspire. To contribute. To change the world. To make every ripple I can.

The snow is shrinking, receding back; like a plague that knows it cannot win. Its New Year’s Eve. I am very excited about 2009. My goal is for each year to be better than the last… then I think about that and I don’t like the comparison that happens. I want each subsequent year to be an expansion of the preceding ones. As if last year was a spring board, like when you’re playing Super Mario and leaping up to the highest platform and you’re on those flowers that sink if you stand on them too long. Life is kind of like that, actually, we have but a moment to enjoy each moment and when too long is spent stagnant or in the past, we become trapped and fall.

2008 has been an incredible growth year for me… highest highs and lowest lows, to be cliche about it. I am certain about things I wasn’t certain of before. 2009 is the year of the artist for me… my artist rising, and that is thrilling.