Did you ever have a question pull up a chair in your mind and sit there and refuse to move until you acknowledged it? As much as I didn’t want to face my question, I knew if I didn’t it would haunt me.

After I wrote my journal entry on the parallels of writing and running, a statement presented itself. It went something like this. Krista-you can see how your two passions are similar, but can you see one HUGE difference between the two? I answered, no-and noticed the pile of laundry that needed my attention.

It spoke again- Krista, what is different about why you write and why you run? Hmm- not really sure, I think I’ll make some brownies.

Our family gathered for a Sunday night movie and we watched The Soloist. How sad, I thought, this man was never allowed to reach his full potential. Then came the scene where Mr. Ayers sits and plays his cello for the homeless in front of LAMP. Would this have happened if he stayed on the path from his youth? Those homeless people are no less important than people sitting in Carnegie Hall. Does playing for them make him less important? No, he was doing what he loved. The question sat in my gut like a boulder. I couldn’t move it from sight.

The next morning, I interrupted my husband at his computer. He’s always so patient. He never knows if I’m going to start a two hour conversation or simply ask what he planned for the day. “I’ve been thinking about something.” He sits back in his chair and smiles. “I wrote about the similarities between writing and running but there is something that’s bothering me.” At this point he realized he wasn’t going to get back to recording his music for some time. I rattled on. “One I do only for myself and the other, I have a need to taste success defined by myself and others. I don’t think it’s right. I shouldn’t feel that way. I should write for the same reason I run-pure enjoyment, love-not with expectations. There I said it. I acknowledged it. Now the question could get up off its chair and leave and I could go on writing. Funny thing though-instead of feeling better, I felt worse. Admitting that there was a part of me that craved readers for my writing was like admitting I was weak. I wanted an answer to why I felt this way.

If a meteor had dropped from the sky with three giant letters painted red on its side, EGO, it wouldn’t have made as big a statement as a pretty blue book with the letters, SUE MONK KIDD at the top. The very next night after I asked my husband “why?” I received my answer. This is what I read.

Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd- Ms. Kidd has realized that her path is taking her down a different road than the one she’s been on for the past ten years.

As I said the words, I felt suddenly on the verge of tears. I couldn’t imagine turning this way of writing loose, even though I knew deep down my thread was spinning in another direction. I was like a scared, belligerent child on the first day of school, holding onto anything I could to prevent being dragged to my destiny.

She gave me a long deliberate look. “If you write to please others or write for success or stardom or money, you’re writing out of your ego.
When are you going to write out of your Self?
(Sue Monk Kidd)

Boom! There it was. My answer came swiftly and took my breath away. My goals, my drive, my need for success were all bundled up with my ego. Surely if I had a published book and millions of readers, I’d be an important person. Eyes open-Ouch!

It’s not about getting published. It’s about telling the story that craves to be told. It’s about creating from the place that speaks to me everyday, the one that will continue to speak as long as I listen and keep that ego far, far away.

Namaste- (  K.D.Rausin


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The Picture Book Review

Reviews of Children's Board Books, Picture Books, Activity Books, and Graphic Novels

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