Do you ever have these moments where you are baccarat crystal clear about one fact and one fact only?
I know I’m doing something I love. That’s it.
Don’t know if I’m good at it. Don’t know if I’ll ever make anything of it. Don’t know if anyone will ever care.
But on I’m on the road to somewhere.
Having no idea if anyone will ever read my books. The possibility that I’ll be dust in an urn before someone looks at my manuscript and thinks wow.
It really bothers me. The idea that I am nothing.
But now I’m thinking, maybe that is what we run so hard and fast from. Spending a lifetime pointing to achievements to prove we matter.
Maybe if we just accept that we are inconsequential. Maybe then we have the chance at greatness.