Writing Practice: A Rose By Any Other Name Still Has Thorns

I called this photo Life Inside and Up Close. It’s a photo of a rose from my garden. Pretty, no? And I bet you think I’m going to write some rumination on the ways in which nature nurtures our creativity.  You don’t know me very well, then, do you?

I look at this photo and it takes me to a place that is sadly familiar and all too comfortable.  It is that place where I start feeling pleased with something I have done, but within a short time, I have remade the feeling into regret for what I haven’t done and disgust for what I’ll never do.

It’s not the image itself, but the taking of it that prompts all this.  I take a photo.  I like the photo.  I play around with the photo, enhance it in some or several ways.  I have fun.  I feel confident and sure of myself.  I like what I’m doing.  I’m happy.

And then.

In a split second, perhaps that second when my mind’s eye has said, “This is finished,” I start thinking: I should do this more often.  This is good.  I had fun.  I’m happy.

Why don’t I do this more often?

Because I’m…….here you can fill in the blank with any number of words, all of which have been applied to me at one time or another in my life:  lazy, procrastinator, irresponsible, ADHD…etc. etc. etc.

And now I’m depressed.  I’m filled with disappointment at all I have not done that I could have.


Or maybe this is a case of grandiosity.  Maybe the photo isn’t that good.  Maybe the having fun this one time is the only reward I should expect.  Maybe I should lighten up.


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