When one starts their own business - unless supported by generational wealth or others with deep pockets - you invariably hear about the sleepless nights. Last night was one such night. Well not entirely true: I recall losing touch with the conscious world around 3:15am and waking up at 7:50am.
Business matters are usually the last thing on my mind when I finally find sleep; these thoughts quickly return to my mind's forefront when I awaken in the morning. And the stress I experience fortunately cycles through and I think I've become hardened with the onslaught of the waves of challenges with which I am faced.
"Breakers crash on the beach
I count them like lambs in my sleep
They come at me steady
They know I'm not ready
They pound on my mattress door
Have they got a big one in store."
- Neil Young
But fortunately I have rekindled my old friendship with William Faulkner. And his writing sweeps me away to a long forgotten place and time in Jefferson, Mississippi. Oddly enough, I cannot read his complex writing style unless I am relaxed and unencumbered by the externalities and complexities of life. I sought his writing as a refuge in life's maelstrom as I enter middle age and a new entrepreneurial pursuit. I need to withdraw from life, and reading of a bygone era in simpler times in Yoknapatawpha County. Am I relaxed and unencumbered? Or losing my mind? Either way, it's fun.
And writing here on this web log helps too. As does a 1973 Denver Coliseum show.
It's gonna be alright.