Just A Note I Wrote Myself

I carry a small notebook and pen. All the time. Use both of them every day constantly writing notes. Sometimes the notes are very short. Shorter than six-word short stories.

“Girl third child" reminds me of a family with only the only girl in a family of eight and she’s the third born. There is a lot more to the story but that’s the log line for my memory.

“I saved myself for Lingonberry” from breakfast at Ikea with a grandson where I didn’t have my morning juice at home because I knew I would get Lingonberry at Ikea. No lingonberry.

Not sure why I wrote “priming the market.”

Several of the more recent scribbles are newsletters.

That brings me to today.

“I’ve always got a lot to do but I’m doing very little of it” is a confessional. Not the “I’ve always got a lot to do” part. It’s the “very little” part.

I think that many of the ideas that linger in my “lot to do” list have the appearance of success at their completion. Not sure you can have such a list without them all appearing to be successful to some degree. I worry about the ideas that I’m not sure will work as expected. I put off doing them.

I’ve got to remember that these ideas, the ideas of the “lot to do” list, are sketches. Not the final result.

Most of the photos I make are sketches. Motions and actions and directions and selections and successes and failures and rejections leading to the moment when the lessons tie themselves together. Tie themselves into an amalgam where the result is so much stronger than the sketches. When all the “very littles” combine, they expand themselves beyond their individualities, beyond their first purpose, and beyond expectations.

When the connecting points become transcendent. When the world goes silent. When you create.

I need to follow my preachings and step hard into more of the ideas, the “lot to do.”

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