This Season Is About Becoming

There is a season for wildness and a season for settledness, and this is neither. This season is about becoming.  Shauna Niequist 

I call myself a writer, but I haven’t written anything in the last two weeks. Travelling in Italy has been distracting to say the least, but that’s not the real issue. I don’t want to write. The last piece I wrote was for Kinwomen on the topic of Enough. After pressing send, I had this overwhelming I’ve had enough feeling. I’ve had enough of labouring over words and editing and thinking and researching and feeling the pressure of unwritten books.

We should be camping in the Kimberley region of Western Australia, however, a few weeks ago, my husband had an accident in our expedition vehicle. The day was stormy. He came over a crest of a hill, into a bend. A woman had stopped in the middle of the road to allow some ducks to cross. In a split second, he had to make a choice—slam into her (and the ducks) or attempt to manoeuvre around the woman’s car. Unfortunately, due to the storm, the edges of the road were soft. He slid and hit a power pole. Car damaged. Husband’s neck crunched. Trip cancelled.

Anyway, long story short, a couple of weeks later he received an email from Ducati inviting him to Italy to participate in one of their 90th Anniversary events and we ended up being in Italy instead of sleeping under the stars in stars in the outback.

I’ve been sipping prosecco, munching on Caprese salads and lapping up the sweet flavours of gelato. Catching up with friends over dinner, enjoying garden tours in the hills surrounding Florence, watching the sun set in San Marino, shopping in Milan and sitting on the shores of Lake Como have held my attention far more than writing.

Rooftop Amalfi

Usually, my head is buzzing with ideas by this stage of a trip. My characters visit me in the street cafes, in the quiet of medieval cathedrals, in the faces of myriad people, in the art, in the music …

This is the first time I’ve picked up my laptop and written since the tenth of June. That doesn’t sound long, but for me, it’s like not brushing my teeth for two weeks. Or not showering. Writing is that much of a habit for me.

My friend, Amanda shared this post today and it made me think. Would I give up writing for a year? Could I give up writing for a year?

Perhaps, like the rest of life, there are seasons. Seasons where you are passionate. Seasons where you need to rest. Seasons where you work hard. Seasons where you need to contemplate.

A couple of nights ago, I sat on the wall of a castle and contemplated. A cross stood out against the sunset and I thought about the way centuries pass and what a legacy the cross is. Across the centuries it’s a recognisable symbol of one of the most sacrificial acts of history. I wondered what my legacy would be. Is my writing worthy of becoming a legacy? Am I honouring God in what I do? In how I live my life?

Perhaps this change of plan, this trip to Italy, is less about being inspired to write and more about contemplating life and being inspired to become.

 This season is about becoming.