Whatever next?

I kept my promise to myself and I wrote 40 haiku poems in 40 days.  

Some days were easier than others and I certainly need to learn a few more strategies for catching up with Ms Inspiration when she's too busy to come and sit down for a coffee.

I have kept my promise, but have I fulfilled my deeper pledge, to resurrect a past drive, a long surpressed urge to write?  Can I give the middle finger to the voice asking "Why?" and "To what purpose?" and answer with nonchalance, "Just because I can."

The answer is yes and yes again.  

I don't like everything I have written.  I don't need to like everything I have written.  I don't expect anyone else to like anything I've written.  In fact, I don't expect anyone to read it and this is perhaps the most liberating thing.  

I enjoyed writing these haikus.  Even on the "dry" days, I found a satisfaction in the frustration.  I was happily absorbed in the problem solving and wrangling with ideas, images, sensations, words.  Accountable only to myself, I kept going.  

I have rediscovered how to do something for fun, for no reason other than enjoyment, and it is addictive.  My fingers are itching to pick up the pen or to type.  And surprised by myself, I ask, whatever next?