I've fallen out of the habit of writing. Not completely; I still write a few poems a week and attend a local writers' group meeting. The novel writers' class I've been in is starting back next Monday. That'll help a little too. But I've lost the passion that drove me for several years to write every day. And in the absence of passion, joy is a rare commodity. And in the absence of joy, my art loses some of its magic.

I'm not sure at which point I diverged from the path I was on. Probably it was a bunch of little diversions and distractions that led me into this wasteland of mediocrity that is my present reality.

I've got no huge problems in my life. I've got plenty of money. I'm getting back into working out regularly. I take lots of little day trips to the beach to rest and recharge. But I also find it difficult to identify anything lately that truly excites me. I'm bored. And for me, tedium is a slow and painful death.

Maybe it's all the disappointments in my life that have me discouraged and joyless. I recently went to see a friend, a woman, in the hope of some romantic spark. I wasn't sure if she was even available, so tried to not expect too much. Still though, I died a little when I realized she was happily married.

Lots of small disappointments and a few not-so-small. I've got lots of children. Nine of them. And I've managed to alienate all but one. My youngest son unfriended me on Facebook I noticed today. It hurts. I understand that they're hurt. I recognize that I used to be a pretty terrible person, and at times, a pretty terrible father. But it's nearing 10 years since me and my life changed completely, from fear to hope, from sleep to awakedness, from selfishness to clarity, forgiveness, and love.

Rereading what I've written thus far, I see the solution. See clearly. Forgive fully. Love recklessly. And keep walking, one foot in front the other, in the light, toward brighter light.

Another day, another lesson.

Love and giggles,