Don’t sign your blogging contract when you’re sleeping.

Chickadee and seeds

I can’t imagine not blogging almost every day, can you?

OK, that’s an outright lie.

I can imagine not blogging almost every day.

It almost feels luxurious.  It feels wide-open, limitless, free.  It feels like you’d have time to create wise posts.  You’d sound just like Confucius.  You could edit your posts properly.  You could use gramatically-correct language.  You would use exclamation marks and ellipses and parenthesis sparingly, if at all.

Readers would stop by your blog and nod with amazement, “What a wise blogger!  We should subscribe to her Wise Blog.  Her pearly words of wisdom will tremendously enrich our days, when she chooses to publish.”

You wouldn’t use a double negative in your first sentence.  (Remember Grammar 101?  Do not use a double negative in your first sentence, your last sentence or any sentence in between.  That involves words like “can’t” and  “not” in the same breath.  Miss Mahaffy, my white-haired horror of a 7th grade English teacher is fuming in her grave this morning.)

I would like the luxury of not being inspired to blog more than 1,000 posts since 2008.

Chickadee hearts seeds

Except, somewhere along the line, I signed an almost-daily contract to be a Conduit for Blogging Creativity.

If you don’t blog, the Conduit just gets fitful.  It hisses, “You are not holding up your end of the contract!  I have things to say.  Open your clutched fists and type, you wimpy lazy contract-breaching so-and -so!”

Kathy has nothing to say on these mornings.  (Such as today.)  Why blog?  It makes no sense.  This is a perfect day to receipt taxes and watch snow spatter from the heavens and, OK, maybe start work on federal taxes, except, hey, isn’t that too much tax work for a Saturday?   (OK, Miss Mahaffy, yep, run-on sentence, but I adore them lately.  Please kindly stay in your grave or you’ll be born again as Conduit for Creativity rather than a Conduit for Grammar and you won’t have a Say what arises.)

This Passion rises again and again and again and again and tomorrow and Monday and probably Tuesday and definitely Wednesday, except we’re sometimes allowed to skip a day.  It rises with a fluttering in the heart, a burst of serotonin that feels better than dark chocolate.

Painters can’t stop painting.  Authors can’t stop penning stories.  Photographers can’t stop framing photos.  Dancers can’t stop dancing and bloggers can’t stop blogging.  Not if they’ve signed their Passion Contracts.

I think the Passion Contract reads something like this–although I do believe that it was signed in a dream, so it might not be binding:

I, _________ (insert said name here), being mostly of sound mind and body do vow to listen to my heart’s pitter-pat of passion for _________ (insert said art, hobby or philosophy here) and do duly abide to be ready at a minute’s notice __________ (insert 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes) to ________ (insert said art, hobby or philosophy here) and I shall not whine, complain, grump or fuss when called by the Almighty Creator to create.   _______ Your signature.

Chickadee following his or her passion...

My husband sometimes says, “You blogged again today?  STOP!”

“Why?” I ask, all innocent.

“Because you’re going to burn out and then start carrying on how you’re going to quit blogging again,”  he says.

“I promised you–and all the rest of my blog-reading family–that I would never ever ever ever ever say that again,” I say hotly, with just the proper indignant emphasis.  “You will never ever ever hear me say that again!”

Then I mutter under my breath, “When I decide to quit blogging, I’ll just quit.   None of you need to hear a word about it again.”

The Creativity Conduit elbows me in the mouth when I say that, bringing up bold images of the dream-contract, but I ignore her, too.

Some folks claim that they can’t write more than two blogs a month.

“Good for you!” I heartily encourage, patting them on their silent wise blogging backs, “The Creativity Conduit hasn’t bribed you in the middle of sleep to be her maidservant, running after her every inspiration!  You get days off.  Lucky you!  Enjoy your hours of rest, silence, quiet un-inspiration.  ENJOY IT!  When the words and photos dry up– love it.  And don’t go signing any contracts with that Almighty Creator for DAILY labor.  She’s a strict and crazy taskmaster.  You’ll have no time to watch the chickadees or moan about the weather.”

Chickadee magic

Without signing that daily Creativity Contract, you’ll be in charge.  You’ll be balanced.  You won’t wake up writing blogs at 4 a.m.  You won’t fall so behind responding to comments or reading other blogs because the Slavemaster beckons with Yet Another Post.

You’ll be like Confucius.

Confucius say:  Wheresoever you go, go with all your heart.

I think Confucius, the good blogger that he was, is attempting to tell us that ALL our hearts have signed a contract with the Almighty Creator.  Some of us signed a contract for 365 posts a year teaching photography skills.  Others signed for sixteen thoughtful blogs per year, and not one single more.  Others signed up to be humorous conduits of creativity.  Others signed for–gasp!–no blogs, ever.  Perhaps they signed up for chickadee watching, for re-building old cars, for being kind and loving.

We get in trouble when we argue with our hearts, when we think we should blog more or less than the Creativity Channel decides.

Let’s listen to our blogging and non-blogging hearts yet again.

With love, Kathy

(Blogger’s note, oh, thank goodness, the Creativity Channel added something a little bit wise.  Thank you, Almighty Creator!  And you, too, Confucius, and you, too, little chickadee, and of course, Miss Mahaffy who is about to be reborn as a wild & crazy blogger with only occasional grammatical past-life memories.)

P.S.  The heart’s contracts can change overnight.  You could wake up tomorrow morning with a brand new contract–or the Almighty Creator could tear up the current contract and assign you a passion for learning, say–Tango.  You never know…