In Macbeth, a play considered to be one of the most august works of tragedy, demonstrating how rapacity and self-doubt can be man’s demise, Shakespeare, through the character of his protagonist Macbeth, is quoted to say, “Let every man be a master of his time.” True to the nature of a literary statement, these words are quite the double- edged sword, as, although they imbue motivation, they also spring up the question of what it is that qualifies time as having been effectively exhausted.
Over fifty-two weeks have passed since the birth of Work In Progress, and, in that time, I have gone through seasons of feeling ecstatic, content and secure, but, in that bag of emotions, also lay weary, hesitancy and uncertainty. Now, one might be wondering one of two things or both:
A. How I possibly felt all this in a year?
B. Why there was a back and forth between these emotions
Well, the answer to both the questions lies in the newfound definition of the word “season” that the journey has taught me. Although I knew that a season is an unspecified period of time, I subconsciously still thought that it had to be fairly long. Therefore, unknown to myself, I would brush aside the unpleasant feelings without exploring the root of them, in a bid to not “prolong” their stay in my heart and mind. This did not banish these emotions as I assumed it would. If anything, it only left them to roam around until they found themselves back under the spotlight, which led to my realisation that a season is not so much about the time as it is about what is governing it. A chaotic week can feel like a whirlwind of a month, as can a merry Monday feel like a vivacious week.
Partly owing to these internal sentiments, was the exterior conditions that I either found myself in or landed myself into. Being asked questions around followership or exposure, would sometimes have me looking to those that have gone before me, with the question of whether or not I was doing a great enough job, one that would secure a destiny similar to theirs. At this point, it must be made crystal clear that there was no fault in these questions and I certainly did not take offense to them. The intent in their existence was mostly that of accountability and support. However, the questions did put extra weight on my need to remember the “Why” in the presence of the Work In Progress blog in this world.
Being a lamb unto our feet and a light unto our paths (Psalm 119: 105), the Word of God in the book of Habakkuk 2 verses 2-3, gives us a “how” to bearing in mind our “why”. It reads:
2And the Lord answered me, and said, Write the vision, and make it plain upon tables, that he may run that readeth it.
3 For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry. (KJV)
My first blog post titled “Hearty Welcome,” had the vision embroidered in it, and it was written as so:
"The Work In Progress Blog to be affectionately known as WIP, has been designed to be an unending love letter. Like love, which evolves and takes different forms over the course of our lives, this platform is meant to empower creation to embrace the figures they become throughout the course of life and realise that at every stage, they are of value.
The focus is not on reaching a destination because if truth be told, we don't really know when we will, but that doesn't have to kill our spirits.
If anything, it should fuel us to be present in all phases and live with passion and kindness towards our souls. "
Nowhere in the vision did it specify the platforms the message ought to be on, or, the number of people that were to consistently read for the goal to be achieved.
This is not to pacify the statistics nor is it to paint wide spread impact, in a negative light. The mere purpose is to dissect the lessons that have been learnt as a result of looking back to the vision written plain on a tablet.
1. Remembering my why, was essential in ensuring I remained grounded. In an ever-evolving world, where technological advancements that can enhance the experience are now more accessible than ever, it was important that my intentions remained pure. Surveying how authentic a change would be to the season, became more important than jumping on a bandwagon, unguided, and then failing to be a faithful steward. Which leads me to my next point…
2. Remembering my why, helped me remain faithful to that which I was stewarding. In this context, faithfulness meant careful and responsible management of that which I had been entrusted with. It does not allude to perfection but rather progression. From the get go, I had made a promise to self to make every possible effort to write from the core of my being, viewing this as a blessing and not a burden. Therefore, anything else I was to add to the plate had to resonate with the principal values of W.I.P. and I had to make every attempt to execute it with a degree of diligence. That certainly needs me to put more work in, and, because of my consciousness of this, I could not chew more than I felt I could bite.
3. Remembering my why, saved me from fighting battles I haven’t been called to yet. Over the year, I have realized that at times, we are calling God to deliver us from storms that He never sent us to sea for. Being the loving and merciful Father He is, He will save you, but, that doesn’t take away the scar.
4. Remembering my why, became instrumental in living in contentment and peace. Looking at the tablet on which the vision is written and comparing it to what I would have produced, gave me a solid ground of accountability. Being aligned to the purpose that was set before became a source of joy.
The strategies for the manifestation of this vision may change with time, but, understanding the power of intention will always be crucial.
Pretty Conscience (myself) couldn’t be more grateful to have you supporting her vision to empower and preserve through the art of writing, so from the root of her tree, thank you.
From her progressive heart to yours
Intentionally
Pretty Conscience
Glossary:
August: respected and impressive.
Putrid: decaying or rotting and emitting a fetid smell.