The Perfect Time to Start

reading time management books and believing in my art

We made it to the second month.

And she has been good to me.

Her sun has warmed me on the back porch and her winds have tossed my new haircut on the way home from work. Her light has lingered longer, inching towards the six o’clock hour and her rains are soon to pour, bringing with them weather that calls for a scarf and a sweater.

The first month is always so fraught with the pressure of new beginnings and meeting the mark that we become led to say in casual conversation, “Can’t believe it’s still January!”

I avoided the new year’s resolutioning and goal setting, but have, in this new month, felt a burst of inspiration to set good habits. Maybe because I’m just trying to shake February up.

I woke up last week on the first, forgetful of the goals I set. I rolled over and reached for my phone and scrolled through the usual posts you see first thing. Soon enough, I was slapped in the face by former Phoebe who decided to charge her phone in the bathroom overnight.

I went to my browser and deleted the social media tabs and went to put my charger on my bathroom counter.

A simple goal, that has slowly de-crowded my brain, leaving lots of room for the important clutter.

I am going to start off by saying that I’m sorry for the inconsistency of this page. I will not excuse it with convincing words that explain all of the reasons I have not to write. Instead, I am going to keep my phone in the bathroom in an attempt to make writing more of a priority.

Same with reading.

I have so many books I want to read. They are piled in fives and tens on my desk. There’s really no space for me to do any work. I’ve had the mentality that if books are everywhere I look, then maybe, I will read them. But that hasn’t been the case(yet). So this month, I am going to finish the two books I’ve been switching between for the past month, then start the one on time management.

Part of my job is educating myself for the betterment of the ministry, it’s been nine months and I have yet to take advantage of that perk. So maybe February is the perfect time to start.

To start reading at work and sleeping in a technology-free room. Start eating food that makes me feel good and sit in the sunshine as often as the weather permits. But really, most of all, I want to start to believe in my art.

I want to believe that what I make and give to you is worth something, even if that is only your time. I love writing, I love that this page has kept me writing, but most importantly, I love that this love is no longer hidden behind my bedroom door or silenced every time I shut my laptop.

Art is something that can be easy to hide. It’s terrifying turning the canvas around or reading the story aloud or playing the song. But when you do, and when the world doesn’t erupt in laughs and pointed fingers, the fear subsides and the passion becomes free to roam.

When people tell me they’ve read my Substack, my brain goes one of two ways. Number one being, where’s the nearest table I can hide under? Number two, maybe my work really is worth reading.

It’s much easier to focus on the first thought. Sometimes when I read back over what I post, I can’t believe my willingness to share such sacred things with faceless strangers scrolling on a phone halfway across the country.

But what I’ve found is that writing down what I see or feel or think or believe is how I experience the most beauty. It’s how I see the fruition of my faith, how I love the world growing and shifting and blooming all around.

And that might be strange to some, maybe most, but it works for me.

So I’ve decided to say that, yes, I am a writer, with a confident tone, not a squirmish, embarrassed one, where my face flushes red and I change to the next topic. This is what I love, and it is growing me. Every time I write something, I am creating a work of art that wasn’t there when I woke up, one that will change the rhythm and motion of the day for someone, even if that someone is just me, and my mom who faithfully reads this page.

Because of my believing in art excitement, I have decided to open up paid subscribers to secret projects of poetry and short stories and videos and earth-shattering discoveries made by yours truly. Sign up if you’d like, or not. Either way, I’ll keep believing in my art.

So thanks to February, I’ve had a whole week of new beginnings. The laundry that crowded my brain last week has dissolved into maybe a sock or two. I’d like to think it’s because of my reading habits and good sleep. And it probably is.

I’m believing in my art and finding odd jobs and saving my money and picking up the books crowding my desk.

It’s much easier to begin than I would have hoped. It reminds me of the saying, “Never stop starting.”

So with every morning may I begin again. A new day. A new song. A new walk. Even if it is shaky or slow or tired, feet dragging, eyelids bowing. To start again and continue on, hoping, praying, believing each footstep ahead, and note sung, and rising sun brings us just a bit closer to the life we’ve all been dreaming of.