The Stuff Dreams Are Fed To

I have made sacrifices. In the search to push into 'greatness', I have sacrificed good, solid things for risky things that turned out to be great. But, mostly, I have fed good, solid things to a devouring, selfish wolf called waste.

Often, this wolf poses as wistful, hopeful and even, altruistic. Hours, days, months and years have been fed to it's salivating maw. In the context of writing, I feel that I have fed it my time under the guise of 'collecting information' or 'honing my skill' but, never really feeding time to my cow called writing. 

I call writing a cow because it is slow, constantly feeding and slowly digesting. It pulls it's food back up and chews it again and again. What's born of it, then nurses from it and itself grows. Then, the process cycles again and again. One day, I'll get to eat from it, but not without plenty of care and nourishment. Not without plenty of space for it to roam around and simply graze. 

At some point, when the wolf gets too large to ward off, it will turn and it will devour that cow. So, time to sacrifice that wolf. Whatever that looks like. Television, Facebook, and even Workaholism and Busy-ness. It begins with a plan to trap it, the structure with which to trap it, the execution of the plan, then, the execution of that wolf of waste. Until that plan is carried out, we continue to tolerate the things that get in our way to be more than just successful, but be fulfilled. 

Kill the wolf.