Like hammering into time

 

I was given cause recently to ponder on impact with regard to time. It’s been a theme that has echoed repeatedly recently, and it gave me a greater appreciation for consistency, beyond all the other important characteristics that contribute to success. 

I was waiting for an order at a restaurant, on one of the rare occasions I was moving outside my comfort zone. I was looking at the colorful decorations and bombastic menu and the busy workers in the back. The person that took my order walked from behind the counter and over to me directly and asked if I had worked in education. The question made me wonder at our recent interaction, my asking about the menu and other details. I told him I did currently, and as I was speaking I realized I had to admit I had been in and around education for some 17 years. He asked if I had ever worked for a certain school, and I admitted I had, then all of his reservation disassembled into comfort and familiarity. He knew it. He knew he recognized me, and now he was in that happy moment of confirmation. I didn’t remember the student specifically, but faces did flash across my memory as I walked backwards in time, and then forward to where I was then. I’ve always wanted to be helpful, useful, in whatever profession I pursued, but it never occurred to me to seek out verification that I had made an impression.

Likewise I got a message on a website whereI had posted some writing (one of several), years ago, then over time had forgotten about. It isn’t even the kind of thing that I think about every now and then. I had lost all touch with it from since the last time I was notified that I had a new subscriber or someone had left a message. Then, as now, I had thoughts about being more active, thinking of something new to post, even doing a sweep of other places I had spent time burying seeds and watering leisurely. 

A popular, religious, visual is footsteps in a sandy beach. But then I think that overtime, given swells, water will come along and wash away that evidence and the terrain will be perfectly smooth again. The internet, and I guess in a similar way human memory, is much more easily and permanently marked. There is the very grandiose “what we do in life echoes in eternity” but also the very powerfully plain “people won’t remember what you say but they will never forget how you made them feel.” And I suspect that many, most, all of us out here are pecking or dancing or stomping our way through the setting concrete of each other’s lives, and what we leave behind could be good or bad or anything in between. And I guess what it is can change based on perspective, but its presence I feel is immutable. Very often I feel like my efforts are quiet to the point of pointlessness. It was nice to reminded of otherwise.

I exited winter break with work done, though not as much as I would’ve liked. I made progress in the 8^th novel rewrite, but I am staring down the tunnel of months more work. I have been in contact with mycover artist though, and we have had our first meeting about the cover. He has started his own artist studio, and he was telling me about different things he has learned in the past year and his goals for an ambitious future. I could not help but reflect on our first meeting, and all the ways we clumsily muddled through. We are both different professionals now, better I think. I outlined some of my own plans to him, and he was interested like always. It is only equitable that I admit that while I am unlucky in certain ways, I feel wealthy in my connections.

All of that is to say the work continues. And I think I did a better job of organizing my time this semester so I might be able to pick away at things even during my on season. I joined a promotional group and saw an incredible uptick in views to my author page. That reminded me, sadly, of this disregarded space, and a host of other mechanisms I could be using better. Feedback I’ve read has me thinking of investing into more of those tools. I suspect I will never be good, at least mindful, of that sort of thing.

But then, it is remarkable to think about how much I’ve changed already, in what feels like a blink.