Jane and I are gearing up for a writing class offered by Redhawk Publishing. The class begins this Thursday and will last for eight weeks. It will give me a chance to re-fire my writing which has laid dormant this summer. I have had ideas pop in my head that would make good stories or poems but I have not acted on any of them. I admire those that are able to daily set aside time and energy to pour out of their heart, mind and soul onto paper or computer screen. Life has a way of distracting or demanding that we do it instead of reflect and record about our experience. It is interesting how yard maintenance or domestic tasks consume me, deterring me from spinning yarns and wordsmithing essays through the portal of my computer. The habit of writing eludes me despite the knowledge that I cannot chronicle life without surrendering time, the one commodity that never replenishes. Growing older has empathized the trap that retirement affords me unlimited time was a lie. As am nearer the end, I sense a greater value of my time. However, without daily career demands, my routine becomes less ritualistic, and I am prone to be more ADHD in my living. I see the window that needs cleaning, tires that look low, a toilet that runs slowly or an number of visual distractions that beg for attention. My focus becomes more toddler like as I age. I am reminded of Paul's declaration; I do those things I don't want to do and the things I want to do, I don't. The internal battle goes beyond a war within the soul, the struggle is with the mind and heart as well. What could I be doing? Is my writing a waste of time? I am sure all of us that try to put life into words are conflicted with similar thoughts. Hopefully, this class will inspire me to carve out time for writing. If nothing else, it will give Jane and I an evening out.