I have written two books, both of which, when they have been read by interested readers, have received fair compliments. Yet, both these books have only sold a few copies, for I have, in a way, self-published, and do not know how to make them sell better.
Now, I have written a third book and sent it to publishers, hoping they will see merit in it to publish and distribute it.
Every day I open my mail in the morning, thinking a publisher will respond favourably. Sometimes when my mobile rings and I cannot identify the number, I imagine that a publisher is calling.
Yet, when I sit back and ask if my book will actually find favour with a publisher, I seem to realise that I may be allowing myself to fall into a daydream and thus risk not getting what I desperately want so much. Then I also tell myself that my need to imagine, to anticipate positivity, is what makes me human.
At such times, I lose hope, and it is only when I tell myself ‘what will be will be’ that I suddenly experience faith rising in me.
Perhaps, it is a way to not want to give up, and I realise that living with hope is actually living with anticipation and positivity. When I can still nourish this hope, faith helps me understand what it is that I cannot change by will, and that helps me surrender with less pain and anxiety to what life in its fullness may give me.
Strangely, when all that I have wanted does not happen as I want it to, I can only wait with hope or faith. How I choose to wait — upset, miserable or with fortitude — is the choice I have to make.
If I want to really choose to view my life as a gift, I have to appreciate I can and am willing to wait, to be open and undemanding.
Thus, truly, what sustains me as I write now, when I think all else has fallen, is only waiting and staying open to the possibilities that life may offer.
The writer is an organisational and behavioural consultant. He can be contacted at ttsrinath@gmail.com
