As children bring their broken toys, with tears, for us to mend;
I brought my broken dreams to God because he was my friend.
But then instead of leaving him, in peace, to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help with ways that were my own.
At last, I snatched them back and cried, “How could you be so slow?”
“My child,” He said, “What could I do? You never did let go….”
…found in an old notebook; unattributed but, sadly, not mine.
But for now we see through a glass, darkly ... 
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June 13, 2010 at 7:17 pm
contoveros
There are some toys we may never let go . . .
Is Blogging one of ’em? I don’t know. If I get too attached to it, it could be. If I gotta race to the computer every time I come into the house, check out my stats and see if there were any comments . . .
Nah. That’s just a hobby. No attachment here.
Or is there?
But what if you are intending to help sentient beings with your writing? Does it make a difference using self-discipline to write every other day or whatever schedule does not interfere with your “practice?”
Just saying . . .
Don’t have the answer. But I like how you phrased this question.
michael j
Conshohocken, PA USA