September 14th, 1981
An interesting comment was made at St. Luke’s meeting tonight. The speaker, a woman celebrating 90 days, said that throughout her life she had believed that she was destined for greatness. What a chord that struck in me. I have always nurtured the deep believe that I am full of raw undeveloped talent– and that someday it will be expressed. Consequently, I have viewed my entire life as a prelude. It may or may not be true that I possess talents that can be developed– but it seems that I have missed much, paid little attention to, disrespected a lot of experience because I considered it insignificant. My current life– my job, this apartment– all is significant to me only because I believe that it is leading up to something. Living in the now means that you value each day– each moment. I have always sought for people to perceive me, to judge me– not in the present tense, but in terms of what I am capable of– living on the pretense of my imagined future. I have been so frantic all my life to create and maintain my own illusions as to where I am heading, that I’ve rarely fully experience where I’ve been. I dream of being recognized by the world as a great writer. It is that recognition and the life that I suppose it brings that I dream of– not some deep inner satisfaction at creation with words. I am always so busy perceiving myself– that I miss the experience of being.
To stop living out the roles of the characters I create for myself– to face daily life honestly and without pretensions or secret notions of grandeur. Perhaps, to writer because of the beauty of words– not for the sake of recognition.