Much of what I know about Mastery I have learned by doing or watching others do. It seems ironic to me in many ways that I can not comprehend from reading. It is my medium to translate into but the end product is not something I could consume myself. This means I will often starve for lessons while I am writing.
And yet, this is my commodity. Like a farmer who is allergic to the cheese he makes, I find myself in the market selling that which I cannot touch. It is a mighty pendulum swinging between its poles. At times I am free to write. The muse is upon me and I am carving the words from the ethereal. I do this until I am starving and sallow with hunger for action. Then I turn and turn back to the fertile fields of life and begin again to consume. This is one of those times. The hunger is upon me and I need to find sustenance so forgive the longer breaks between posts.
Perhaps I will find a way to write while I hunt. Perhaps I will find someway to carry scraps of paper in my pockets or to scratch the words that come to me in the bark of trees. There may be words within these actions that can come out. They are different, less polished, more raw with flecks of dirt hiding in their cracks and beneath their leaves. They are not the prettiest gems in the jewelry store but they hold a power none the less.