Climbing Past the Christmas Lights

Thursday night, Seattle experienced severe weather. Violent, torrential winds and heavy, pounding rain overtook the city. Qwest field, playing host to the Seahawks/49ers game, flooded. Several streets, homes and businesses flooded. Major interstates and bridges shut down. Tens of thousands of customers lost power.

I sat inside my warm apartment and watched as the bamboo stalks just off my porch arched under duress, a purring wide-eyed kitty in my lap.

Friday morning I emerged and made my way down to Pioneer Square to prepare for a Saturday conference call. The city felt tired, beaten and worn. “I understand.” And en route, it happened: the majestic Olympics were visible, stoic and full of grace. A spark of light and beauty, a brighter day. I felt a glimmering spasm of desire. Appetite!

At Zeitgeist (my current favorite coffeehouse) I reviewed the project and made some notes on issues I wanted to address.

I made a ‘to do’ list of things that I wanted to complete before the end of the year.

I made a ‘to manifest’ list for things that I will create into my reality for 2007. (The 2007 list was far more ‘fun and exciting’ than the 2006 one might I add.)

Arriving back home, Adam was exhausted from a long week at work. I went out for an evening walk and was amazed to find much of our neighborhood still without power. Blocks upon blocks of total darkness, silence. Far in the distance I spotted a sea of colorful Christmas lights.

A light at the end of the tunnel.

There was something peaceful, something comforting, about walking by myself through the darkness. Arriving at the Christmas light display, I stood and marveled in its beauty.

This morning’s call lasted a little under an hour. It was good, productive, positive. The project continues to blossom, each day sprouting new branches that carry us into un-chartered areas of possibility. New problems to solve. Having conquered the level that we were at, we rise and discover a whole new, higher, level.

Things we hadn’t thought of before are suddenly illuminated.

This is why I love creating.

Our partner in the project comments, “You know, I’m experiencing such highs with this project, times where I’m believing in it so much, and then I look at all the unanswered milestones we have to solve and I get panic attacks. Well, not panic attacks, but I panic.”

I laugh (knowingly) and reply, “The pendulum swings back and forth.”

I explain that the way I’m approaching this is that I know there are greater milestones out there that we will encounter and have to overcome. But I am moving forward in every way that I can with confidence that the answers will present themselves when we need them to.

So far it’s working.

So far we’re tentatively aiming at a mid-January pitch to our first potential buyer. (We’re extremely confident that he’ll buy.)

And I realize that ever since I decided that this time I was ready to fully believe in this project (in our ability to sell it)(in myself), it’s becoming real. I realize that this experiment is really fun. The fear, somehow, isn’t so bad.

And I think how much more comfortable it is for me to experiment in the fictional world than it is in my reality life. “But look,” I counter. “The two are merging.”

The two are merging.

I stopped fighting. I stopped being angry. The fear is dissipating.

My inner artist smiles.

Higher Self smiles.

I smile.

The two are merging.

Now comes the management of the merging of the two. The next thirty days I’m going to be fully immersed in this project. The kind of fully immersed where I can no longer differentiate between what’s on the page or what’s in my head.

How does a ‘things to complete before the end of the year’ list compete with that?

Damn lists. To think I was only recently giving you praise.

Tonight we tried to treat ourselves to “Babel”, but missed it. We failed to account for all the extra holiday human traffic. Back in Capitol Hill, we ventured a few blocks north. Sure enough, the power was still out for several blocks.

We walked together, peacefully, through the darkness and in the distance we spotted a sea of colorful lights.

Our light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s been a long couple of weeks (within this long year), and the incline will only grow steeper before we’re allowed to reach the peak. I’m tired. We’re tired.

But, man does it feel good to be climbing again.