Writing

My Mission Statement

By / December 8, 2016 / Art, Creativity, Personal, Writing
10 Comments
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I’ve spent the past few years thinking a lot about who I am and what I was made to do. It’s been a long journey, fraught with anxiety, self-doubt and confusion. I’ve traversed the desert of darkness and despair, have had to question whether or not I have a purpose, if I was meant to be a writer or if my art is just the accidental by-product of genes, passed on through countless generations, heralds of random chance and a fundamentally chaotic universe.

By attempting to comprehend my existence and its reason for being, I’ve come to a much fuller understanding of what it is I’m supposed to do.

It’s my sincere hope, of course, that everything I write will entertain and delight you, my readers. I want to make you happy. In a world filled with anxiety and despair, I want to give you leisure and rest.

But there’s more.

There are things I wish to communicate, themes that have surfaced over and over again as I’ve plumbed the depths of my imagination. Everything I write, while intended to entertain, also serves a higher purpose. What follows are three things I hope to accomplish as a writer.

1. To explore the entire spectrum of the human experience.

What motivates people to do what they do? Why do they feel a certain way? How do people react to the actions of others? These are just a few of the questions that fascinate me, questions that have set me on a path of exploration that’s taken me deep into the heart of humanity.

We are a species rich with depth and complexity. There are no simple answers; every question is answered by another question. Yet in the neverending process of asking new questions, we come to a fuller understanding of ourselves.

2. To discern and articulate the extraordinary that hides in the shadow of the ordinary.

As humans, we’re easily distracted by the everyday tedium of our existence. We lose ourselves in routine, becoming so absorbed in the doings of the world that we fail to see what lies beyond the surface.

I believe that beyond the thin veil of the ordinary lies something much more wondrous and strange than any of us could possibly imagine. I believe that once we train ourselves to see the world as something more, the cardboard superficiality of our dull surface-existence falls away to something much more rich and mysterious.

3. To demonstrate that life has meaning, that all of us have a purpose.

I firmly believe that existence has meaning. I will always believe it, no matter how confused I become, no matter how many times others may argue to the contrary. In the vastness of the cosmos, we are not alone. Each of us has been given a mission, some task to perform in love for the benefit of the human family.

Simply by being who I am and by writing what I discover hidden within my soul, I hope to convey this message to others, to give hope where so many have fallen to despair. I wish to show the universe for what it is, a cosmic framework in which everyone and everything are interconnected for an everlasting good that was made to be shared.

How about you? What’s your mission?

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©2015 Jeff Coleman. All rights reserved. For reproduction rights, please contact the author (who happens to be a kind and eminently reasonable man.) Unless otherwise stated, images are copyrighted by various artists and licensed by Shutterstock.

When Will I Learn?

By / December 8, 2016 / Personal, Philosophy, Writing
9 Comments
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My writing often follows a particular pattern. I start out eager and excited, charged up and ready to go. I have a ton of ideas, and I feel like nothing in the world can stop me. Then I sit down to write. At first, it’s great. I think that at long last, I’ve found peace and comfort in my craft, that at long last, I’ve conquered self-doubt and am no longer overly concerned about getting it one hundred percent correct the first time around.

Then a few weeks into the cycle, self-doubt returns, at first just a creeping vine that tickles the periphery of my mind, warning me to be more careful, that I don’t want to make too many mistakes, that if people are ever going to take me seriously as an author I have to be more conscious of what I’m doing. Caution soon gives way to concern, and before long concern gives way to self-criticism and despair. Before I know what’s happened, I find myself once more stuck in the mud, with a blog that hasn’t been updated for over a month and books and short stories that haven’t been touched for nearly as long.

When I finally find the courage to come back up for air and try again, I discover that some of those who were interested in what I was doing had left, not because they’d stopped supporting me but because I had given up, because I had shown them through my actions that I had nothing left to share. In giving in to my fear of failure, I had failed. I had prophesied my own doom, then unwittingly made it come true.

I’ve made this mistake countless times before. Each time, I promised myself that I would never make it again, that this time things would be different. And still, before long, I find myself here once more.

When will I ever learn?

It’s okay to make mistakes.

It really is. Everyone makes them. That’s part of what it is to be human. The only way not to make mistakes is to sit in a dark corner of your room alone and do nothing. If you want to put yourself out there, if you want to connect with other people, if you want to change the world, you’re going to have to fail. Failure is a precursor to success, and you must be willing to face it daily if you’re ever to have a serious hope of making a difference.

But what if I make a bad impression?

Every time I tell myself it’s okay to make mistakes, this is the next doubt that enters my mind. What if others witness my failure? What will they think? Will they ever take me seriously again? The answer, I’ve discovered through experience, is that some will, and some won’t.

And that’s okay.

You’re not going to please everybody. Some people will love what you do, and others will hate it. Some will notice your mistakes, and others won’t. Some will support you in spite of them, and others will walk away.

Let them.

If somebody walks away from you because you made a mistake, then either they had unrealistic expectations or they were never very interested in what you were doing from the start. So why spend so much energy worrying about their opinion? Focus instead on doing what you love, what brings you joy and passion, on what gives meaning to your existence.

Don’t worry about what other people think. Those who resonate with your message will hear your authentic passion-infused voice and support you, and those who don’t don’t matter.

It’s really that simple.

And yet, it’s not…

The concept itself is easy enough to grasp. Do what you love and don’t let others get in your way. Be bold. Make mistakes. But when it’s time to actually put this philosophy into practice, most of us, myself included, fall flat on our faces. Every. Single. Time.

Self-doubt is a powerful force. It’s the demon that whispers in your head whether you’re awake or you’re asleep, that assaults you with softly-spoken assurances of failure and condemnation, that promises you the everlasting Hell of ridicule and humiliation should you even think of trying.

You must not listen to it.

Shun this evil force with all your strength, lest it hold you back from what you love for the rest of your Earthly life. Whenever you hear its voice, you must drown it out, not with shallow and vainglorious self-assurances of success, but with a realistically optimistic outlook rooted not in the opinions of others but in the fulfillment of your life’s purpose.

Each and every one of us has one, a reason for being, a mission to accomplish, and we can only achieve what we were created to do when we let go of our incessant need for approval and boldly step forward into the unknown.

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©2015 Jeff Coleman. All rights reserved. For reproduction rights, please contact the author (who happens to be a kind and eminently reasonable man.) Unless otherwise stated, images are copyrighted by various artists and licensed by Shutterstock.