Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

Through and Thoreau

More and more often, it's just too much. The "it" being everything, life in general. There is no flavor or color. Just survival. The only joy is the absence of pain. And "too much" is a relative term. Sure, I can put up with more, and more... and more. I just really don't feel like it anymore.

This week was bad. Not the worst on record. Just more.

I want less.

I often imagine what it was like to live like Henry David Thoreau. I'd miss antibiotics and safe food, but probably not much else. There are too many damn distractions in today's world. Some in Thoreau's world as well, but he mastered putting them in their place. And when he saw injustices, he did not ignore them. Thoreau saw things. The reason we know this is that he wrote about what he saw. But he had to be out there, experiencing life before he would write. Same could be said for Samuel Clemens, Jack London or John Steinbeck. I just always felt more of an affinity for the quiet Thoreau.

Retirement is a ways off. I dream of a rustic place on a few acres. Maybe a pond I could walk to.
I tell myself that I could focus on writing without all these distractions. When I'm not working, I can focus more on living. Perhaps.
But it's just as likely I'll sit in my living room, and binge-watch some tripe until I get hauled-off the old folks dump.

I really don't care. I could do this forever, just like Sisyphus. With the same results.
And there's always more tomorrow.


My heart is loneliness profound,
my dreams are violence set afire,
my thoughts in chains are wrapped and bound
my soul is burdened bruised and tired

My shoulders bear a heavy load
my legs have no more strength to stand
my quick and sturdy step has slowed
my cunning craft has left my hand

But words have saved me once before;
what hope in words can I now find?
A hope to see that shining shore
that binds my ocean frame of mind.

William Mcgehee

When I read your post, this poem came to mind, and I wanted to share it with you.... just so you would know that everyone feels like this from time to time.... find your passion...
You make me appreciate how fortunate I am. I go to work because I want to, I live in my retirement home and in all honesty; the reality of my old age, far surpasses and dreams I had when I was younger.

I have always use the phrase the key to happiness is low expectations. I do things with all my might hoping they work, often surprised when they do. when they fail I figured it is all part of the law of averages.

Just a gut feeling here, but I am pretty sure you are going to end up with what you want, I don't picture you ever just sitting in front of a tv and drinking beer. You are one of the more focused people I know who really seems to value the stuff that matters :}
As Henry would say, we all lead lives of quiet desperation. Each of us is desperate for something, if not for ourselves, then for those we love.
From my personal perspective, it is easier to carry desperation for oneself, than for loved ones. I fear yours is the latter because you are not one to give in or give up. I’m sorry. Sas

Blog entry information

Last update

More entries in Creative Writing 101