Even though the busyness this summer was good busyness, it still produced much chaos, missed schedules and a recurring sense of "What was I doing? Oh, yeah..." Time spent on projects diminished, if said projects were remembered at all.
After a while, I'd lost interest, not in one area but in many. Most, in fact. When it came time to start school with the kids, I didn't have the usual excitement at assembling the lesson plans and buying books. When it came to writing, the well wasn't just dry--I couldn't find the bucket. Surely, I thought, it was due to the fact moving and wedding planning and driving the kidlets to 234,732,984 summer camps had taken its toll and soon I'd be back to normal.
But I'd lost my mojo.
I tried the usual tricks that one does to inject freshness into their routine and jump start the creativity: read the right books, connect with others of the same interests, try new creative outlets. Nothing really worked--and I can't say for certain I put in 100% trying because it just. wasn't. happening.
Then I went to the ACFW Conference, and while it was fulfilling, even that didn't produce the usual burst of I-have-to-get-back-and-implement-xyz-right-away. (The amazing takeaway value of the conference, for me, was relationships.)
The realization has set in that it's not about mojo. Yes, it's great when our enthusiasm for a task aligns with timing and results to propel us into further action, and thus creating a cycle that feeds off itself. But I can't rely on that to move forward. Sometimes we're blessed with a season where our projects and passions are in perfect unity, but more often than not we (or at least I) am in a season of plowing.
What am I going to do? Exactly what I KNOW in my heart I'm supposed to. I'm determined to be content doing the next thing next. Which means it's time to print the math sheets, fold the laundry and get in some word count.
Are you in a plowing season or are you reaping?
The Trail by Ed Underwood (Review)
1 hour ago