Broken Mug, Broken Dreams

From my Writing Journal, 14 August 2018:

My writing mug broke all to pieces.

I found it years ago when I was Wishcraft buddies with Jean D. Back then, I was starting to buy cups for New Years' Resolutions: a "home sweet home" mug to remind me to say please and thank you and remind the kids as well, a Victorian house cup to support our move to the "the propitty" outside of town, a love mug to remind me to seek joy for the health of my heart. Sometimes I got money mugs, but my financial status never really changed. Another story.

So, to boost my efforts as a writer, I looked for and found a drinking cup picturing books on shelves. Also, on the shelves were a lantern, a chess piece (the knight), and a paper airplane. Evocative, eh?

Holding it carefully, I showed it to Jean who had been encouraging me to recognize myself as an author. She gasped in happy surprise. “That’s perfect!”

Then I spread my palms and the two halves of it fell apart. “It broke,” I said to her. “What does that mean?”

We both wanted to cry. Such a perfect vision for a wanna-be-writer. What did it mean that it cracked? That it split neatly into two chunks?

I chose to believe that my dream was not broken just because of a coffee mug. I glued it back together. I’ve been using it as a pencil, pen, quill holder since. I felt like I dodged fate.

But then, Jones the cat stretched across my desk, and he knocked the mug onto the floor. It shattered. A few large shards, but mostly shrapnel; no gluing it back together, even for a pencil holder.

I gathered the pieces and threw them away. I swept the floor carefully, hoping to find any remaining, dangerous slivers.

Now I have a metal Hershey’s chocolate syrup can on my desk.

I choose to believe that the book mug was never meant for me. I was already an author. Am already a writer.

No need for aspirations when I was already living the dream.

~~~~~

Today, 24 April 2022, I’m still using the chocolate syrup can for holding the tools of my trade.

That’s right, today, writing stories is my daily work, my craft, my love.

I encourage anyone with a goal to use my coffee cup idea. It’s a way to tap into our subconscious to support what we love. But it might not be a good idea to use said mugs for desk tools, or to allow cats onto desks. [Shrug.]

(Still not sure what my subconscious sees in the chocolate syrup.)