“Life…is like the changing seasons. You cannot change the seasons, but you can change yourself. Therein lies the opportunity to live an extraordinary life, the opportunity to change yourself.”

Jim Rohn

Many authors have taken their characters on journeys to find their calling. Some struck out on a physical journey, some heard their call as clear as a voice speaking to them, and others felt it in their soul from birth, as if their call was as important as a limb or an organ.

Each one of us has a unique story to share and many have the ability to write, though they may not yet know it. In a writing class I am currently attending, the professor said that while it may seem every story has been told, the story has not been told from your perspective. It could be the only way someone connects with your writing and carries something important away from your story.

This year of 2020 – ironically a symbol of perfection where vision is concerned – has somehow clouded our vision. This year has become a journey much like the stacking of Matryoshka dolls. We thought the first doll, or problem in this case, was as bad as it could get; and then the problems continued to get larger as one stacked upon the other, accumulating into a mass of rattling confusion. No matter one’s view on the pandemic or politics, I think we can agree these are trying times, when brother questions the motives of brother and distrust fogs even the brightest day.

The season of time shifts from summer to fall, with hints of the coming winter’s chill on its breath; and I realize this dramatic, historical change of seasons we are experiencing is seeking an alteration within me.

When times are happy, I find it easy to write of dark times, whether that be an unfortunate choice that led to a lifetime of regret or tales of a society where little choice is given the people regardless of class. Whereas darkened times filled with questions beckon for tales written of hope and love.

Is this changing season not my call to write? So much is happening all around me and I am along for the ride, interpreting these circumstances in my own unique way as I am forced to confront my fears and hesitations, just like the journeys penned by authors of old. Is this not what I have always felt called to do? Now the times have caught up with me, demanding I rise to this occasion.

Unknowingly, I have been preparing for this. Before the pandemic, I had the opportunity to attend a couple of mentoring sessions with a published author, and I received excellent ideas on how to improve my writing skills. Now I am attending a four-week writing class. All the while, I am writing (though not as often as I should). I am taking advantages of these opportunities on purpose, to try to write better, possibly to be published; but little could I have imagined the circumstances that would push me forward in my pursuits.

Seasons will come and go. Things will get worse, or they will get better. But they will always change. I feel that writing creates a moment where time stops; a moment you can visit again and again; a place where you know everyone and you delight in loving the characters you love and are ready to withstand the horrors of the characters you don’t like. I want to create those kinds of moments for people, moments they can cling to when they are sad and thrill in when they are happy.

Have you discovered your calling? Was it found in a whisper, or a shout, a ripple on the river, or a wave on the ocean? If you have not yet found it, do not despair. Spend time preparing yourself for the fears and uncertainty that are certain to be close on the heels of learning something about yourself – uncovering a strength within. For when once you hear the call, it may be hard to ignore.

Musingly,

J. R. Brierley