Axe to the Grindstone
There’s a quiet in my heart that is telling me to get ready. In this writing adventure it’s time for me to put the axe to the grindstone and begin hacking through ideas to create words that are ready to use.
Winter is coming and I have no idea what it will be like. but I do know what it will be like if I’m not ready.
Cold. Hard. Colder and harder than it needed to be.
I have no idea how many words I’ll need stacked up like wood ready to fulfill, ready to work. I don’t know if the next season will be half a cord or three cords of cold.
But I know I’ll regret it if I’m not ready. Even though the forecast is unknown, the possibilities are not.
I need to warn you, the process may not be pretty. The beginnings of a pile of anything doesn’t look like much. But when one remains steadfast, it starts to add up and become a stack with height and breadth and width. Something that is defined in space. I guess I’m longing for definition, but progressing with optimistic trepidation.
I’m starting to do my part.
The axe is so dull, and there is so much wood to shape. But I’m taking that first step. I want my work to mean something, to be significant, to be efficient. So I’m sharpening my axe first. Every letter typed on keyboard or scrawled into a journal is another strike, not to the wood, but the stone.
Then comes the labor, the work of striking through ideas to make something usable. The sacrifice of working though the present to prepare for the season ahead. The cutting, the shaping, and the stacking of words.
What are you preparing for? Is your blade sharp and your willingness sharper? Is your heart ready to reveal the dull and unkempt to make the precision and definition possible?
I hope mine is. Every dance starts with a step.